


The Truth, Old Peaks War

by FreelanceMem



Series: Clones of Old Peaks War [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clones, Escape, M/M, Multi, Road Trip, Suicide mention, Torture Scene, War, identity crisis, memories from the original mercenaries, things aren't all what they seem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-10-20 20:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 94,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20681837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreelanceMem/pseuds/FreelanceMem
Summary: The sequel to "They Were, Old Peaks War" this is the story of what happened after four mercenaries escaped a clone programming facility. This is about the truths they discover about themselves, the war they once fought and the world beyond the borders they were kept in.Medic faces the challenges of trust and reconfiguring identity. It seems the world has not finished throwing him curve balls in that regard.





	1. Driving

“Docteur?” the spy’s voice pulled the medic out of his trance.

He had been watching the world pass by them. The vehicle was speeding along every single bump and not caring at all where they were going. He was very bored, but somehow more at peace with it since they were freely on the road.

With two mediguns in the back, they were free and healthy. Both of the scouts were sleeping, resting to take the day shift for driving. They were all thankful for the medigun, or they might not be alive right now.

It was the first time he had felt free from his leg in a long time. It was ironic since he would not get to use his leg much during this trip. They stopped to make brief stops and rest their tired bodies, but they must keep going. They had an impossibly long trip ahead of them.

“Do you think of good and evil?” the spy inquired.

The medic blink, a little taken aback by this question. That was mostly because he was tired of being in the car. It made him sleepy and he would like nothing more than to get out and run.

“Think about it?” he rubbed his face as he yawned, “I never consider it. Not anymore.”

“Do you still think I’m evil?” spy’s voice had a strange tone to it. It was like there was something hopeful or pleading. He was not entirely sure what to make of it. “Do you honestly think of all spies as the same? That…we’re all Gabin?”

Medic hesitated. He had not thought about these things in so long. He was not sure he would ever trust a spy for real. It seemed to be born out of necessity that this spy was being fully cooperative.

“I think you’re all insane,” the medic answered.

“Hmm…” the spy sighed.

“But…that doesn’t mean you’re going to be the same as Gabin,” the medic admitted, “Just as many medics have come and failed to be half of what Aurick was.”

“Do you think you are like Aurick?” the spy asked.

“I am not Aurick,” the medic explained.

“That is not what I asked,” the spy countered.

“Hey,” their conversation was stopped abruptly as one of the scouts poked his head over the back of the seats, “Can we make a pit stop?”

“We do not have time. We need to keep going,” the spy argued.

“Come on! Please!” the scout begged, “We gotta stop!”

“Just piss in your bottle,” the spy argued, keeping his eyes ahead and his hands on the wheel. The medic appreciated his attention to his current job whilst the scout was being a bother.

“It’s full!” the scout procured a bottle and shook it around. The yellow liquid sloshed in the closed bottle, startling the spy and causing him to shrink away.

“Put that away! You disgusting little cretin,” the spy growled with disdain.

“Gotta pee too!” the other scout called from the back.

“Do not act as though you do not also piss,” the medic gestured to the bottle.

The spy looked at him for a long moment before he sighed, “Alright. But just ten minutes. We must be gone by the end of ten minutes.”

The vehicle rolled to a stop and the back doors flung open loudly. Medic took his time climbing out of the passenger side, because he did not want to seem too eager. Once he was out, he closed the door and stretched, letting every inch of his body feel the relaxing relief of having space and the ability to stand. His legs were most thankful, with the memory of knee pain behind him.

“Hey doc!” one of the scouts trotted over.

He smiled, offering a hand. The medic took the hand hesitantly. He was not sure what this was about or why they were shaking hands.

“Erm…scout?” he questioned.

“I wanted to talk with you about…names and stuff,” scout quickly tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Alright?” the medic was even more hesitant. There was definitely nothing he could make about this.

“The other guy was talking about coming up with a new name. He wants our help with that,” the scout explained.

“Alright,” the medic hesitated, studying the scout before him and the one a little farther away limbering up.

“Thing is…” the scout rubbed his nose as he hesitated, “I’m actually fond of the name Skeeter.”

“Um…okay?” the medic shrugged. It was not unheard of for scout clones to talk about being called Skeeter. They were likely the most talkative of any class, when it came to their memories as the deceased mercenary.

“Doc?” the scout pressed.

“Yes?” medic nodded to him.

“I would like it a lot if you would call me that,” the scout explained.

“You want me to call you Skeeter?” medic opened his hands, asking for confirmation.

The scout nodded, “Yes.”

Medic nodded slowly, “Okay…Skeeter. Skeeter it is then.”

It would be strange to think of the scout differently. A different name meant different things. He would be set apart from just being a normal scout. Then again, Skeeter was the common name among them. Perhaps the other scout was going to choose a different name to go by.

The scout smiled up at him, “So…what about you?”

“What about me?” the medic eyed him curiously.

“Well,” Skeeter diverted his eyes for only a moment, before increasing the size of his smile, “What would you like to be called?”

“Excuse me?” it took him by surprised to be asked something like this.

“Uh…” Skeeter lost his smile and he scratched his arm, “Well, you-you’re not like other medics. So, I figured…”

“There are no other medics here,” medic gestured around them.

“Right, but…we’re human,” Skeeter gestured between himself and the medic, “We’re…we’ve been living the life of…you know…being in that definition. The society we- I mean, the originals…they left behind society. We’re going back now and I think…maybe it’s time to not think like we’re those classes anymore? Like, maybe we’re not mercenaries anymore?”

“Maybe,” the medic shrugged uncertainly.

“We’re gonna rejoin society soon,” Skeeter’s smile returned to his face, “We’re going to start a new life. Maybe we’ll…actually have a place to call home?”

Medic shrugged again, “Maybe, but I don’t know.”

“It’s time to get going!” the spy called out.

Medic looked to Skeeter’s smile. His heart broke a little. Whatever chances he had had to make this a bit more had long since passed. His chances were gone and that time was over.

“We probably should hit the road before spy has an aneurism,” Skeeter laughed.

“Good point,” medic agreed, quietly following scout towards the vehicle. They all climbed in, with spy in the driver’s seat. The medic wanted to climb in the back so he could just continue that conversation with scout, but he knew how the spy was going to have a hissy fit. He apparently needed somebody to keep him awake during this drive.

He settled back into his seat and nearly dozed off as the vehicle started up again. It felt like the vehicle was trying to rock him to sleep all the while. It was a pleasant sensation, despite the lack of pillows or other comforts.

The medic felt like he had dozed off forever. When the car rolled to a halt, he noticed the spy putting it in park. It did not seem like the right time to take a break. Though, it seemed the driver took his own breaks seriously.

Then he realized that the darkness was shifting. The light was coming up and soon the sun would peak over the edge of the Eastern horizon. It was time for a shift change, where the scouts would take over driving and the two of them would lay in the back.

The medic climbed out and went to relieve himself. Better to get that over with before either of the scouts got out and started running around. When he had finished, he meandered to the vehicle to lean against it. Before he could even start the yawn that was coming, the spy approached him. He quickly covered his mouth as he refrained from the gesture of relaxation.

“The scouts have the right idea, you know,” the spy explained.

“It’s Skeeter and the scout,” medic corrected.

Spy rolled his eyes, “All the same, you should be thinking of a name.”

“What name then? Aurick?” the medic inquired.

“No,” the spy shook his head, “A name more fitting to you. Something a normal person could call you that still fits you.”

“A normal person? So we’ll be joining normal people? Is that the plan?” the medic inquired.

“If we are to leave the war terrain, I would think we would end up at least meeting normal people, yes,” the spy nodded.

“Leaving war…I am not sure how far the war goes. For all we know, everything is war,” the medic relented.

“You think everything is war worn now?” the spy sounded a little sad at that.

“You sound nostalgic,” the medic teased, “What do you think would happen after years and years of war?”

The spy let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping and his eyes falling, “I do have memories, and I hope…I hope that I get to see some of the things that I remember for myself.”

Medic looked up to the sky and frowned. It was the same blue sky that he always saw. For all he knew, it would be the only blue he ever knew. For years he spent his time fighting and surviving alongside other mercenaries, now he was free of that.

He wondered how things were in his little nook of the base. His tools were likely sitting there unused. That or they had been picked up by a new young clone. It was funny to think that he now knew where those new clones came from. It was a facility far different from the one he barely remembered. There was little to remember, but he knew it was different. There was certainly no gentle doctor named Jodee when he was a fresh new clone.

The newer facility was so gentle with the new clones. It was so kind to them. It was funny to think that it was so heavily guarded and yet so easy to escape. It made him wonder what was different from the previous facility that made it so easy to get out of. Maybe it was Jodee’s foolishness to keep him around, rather than sending him straight back into the fray of war. Maybe it was just the guard not being secure enough. That or the facility’s security had been let down by the fact that they put a clone in a position where he could access power.

“I thought of a name, you guys!” one of the scouts caught their attention.

Medic turned his head to look at the scouts. The other scout was telling something to Skeeter as they walked towards the medic and the spy. They paused just a few feet away, both of them grinning like idiots.

“What is it? Out with it then,” the medic demanded, with a come hither gesture of his hand.

“Brian!” the other scout said with a big bright smile on his face.

“Brian?” the medic was dumbfounded by the simple name. It was an opportunity to have any name he wanted and he chose a stupid one.

The spy burst into laughter. The others were quiet, unsure of what to make of the man laughing like this. When he stopped laughing, he looked at them, as if they were the crazy ones for not joining in.

“It’s such a simple name,” the spy sighed, “It’s good.”

“Are you alright, spy?” Skeeter asked.

“I’m fine,” the spy assured him.

“Really?” Brian pressed.

“Really,” the spy nodded, turning to the medic, “Are you ready to go? Because I’m ready for sleep.”

“Hey! We’re the ones driving next!” Skeeter protested, “You should be asking us!”

“Yea!” Brian threw in his agreement.

The spy rolled his eyes and turned to them, “Fine then. Are _you_ ready to leave?”

The scouts shared a look then shrugged at each other. They finally gave the spy a nod, before heading to the front doors of the vehicle. Medic caught himself watching for too long as Skeeter climbed into the passenger side.

“You shouldn’t pine too much for what you can’t have,” the spy interrupted his thoughts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the medic spun on his heel. He avoided eye contact with the spy as he climbed into the back of the enclosed vehicle.

He was relieved of this vehicle’s layout. With double doors and coverage, they were protected from the sun. Even with all of their equipment back here with them, there was enough space on the carpet to be comfortable. It was not the best place to rest, but it was far better than a hot metal truck bed.


	2. Exposure

“Hey! Hey look!” a scout’s voice interrupted spy’s restful peace.

To his dismay, medic was starting to wake up now. So much for that peace. He enjoyed his presence when he was awake, but there was something special about being close to him when he was asleep. Unaware, spy could just stare at him while he was sleeping. Now that he was awake, he would be cranky and especially snappy towards spy.

“Oh my- holy hell! We just hit a road!” the other scout said.

Spy picked himself up, slowly pushing his upper body off the floor with his hands. He raised his chin to peer over the back of the seat. It was not entirely clear, what with all of the desert dirt around them and spy’s eyes being tired, but he could tell that they were indeed on a road. They had gone from the dirt of the desert to an actual concrete road.

“Holy shit!” Skeeter laughed.

“We did it! We made it!” Brian cheered.

“Hip hip. Now, can you two be quiet?” the spy grumbled.

“You old guys gotta be at least a little bit excited!” Brian exclaimed, giving Skeeter a high five.

“I would if it meant anything more beneficial. At this point, we still do not know where we are going,” the spy protested.

“Well, roads connect cities and societies, right?” Brian inquired.

“Yes, of course!” Skeeter nodded in agreement.

“Right! So, no matter which way we follow the road, we’ll end up somewhere,” Brian concluded.

“Definitely,” Skeeter nodded again.

“Whatever,” the spy sighed as he carefully laid back down.

He was surprised to find the medic with his eyes open. He was looking back at him. Their eyes had met and for the first time, it felt like the medic was looking at him, seeing him, and realizing who he was as an individual. It felt different than any time before.

He was not sure how long the stare lasted between them before he finally caved and closed his eyes. He wondered what the medic was doing while his eyes were closed. Maybe he closed his eyes too. Or maybe he was still staring at him, with thoughts still wandering through his mind.

Spy’s mind went back to the incident in the facility, back to where he had been in a place of authority over the medic in his disguise of a nurse, only to be made vulnerable by the medic. He had been replaying that incident for a few days now. Every time, he could not bring himself to understand why the medic was doing that and why he responded the way he had.

Perhaps he had found out the truth about Nurse Tanner, that the man was obsessed with medic clones. He likely planned to seduce him in order to gain some sort of footing with him. If this was the case, then he was well on his way on his own to getting out of the facility. Granted, it seemed he had some help from the spies there. It made him glad that he disposed of them. They were all just using the medic for their own gain, making him the lure that would redirect and control Nurse Tanner and Dr. Jodee.

He never meant for things to go the way they had. He never meant to fool the medic the way he had. He had merely been disguised to safely bring the ID card to him. He was literally ready to hand it over and give command to the man who had been controlled by the other spies.

The scarf had given him away in the end. The medic recognized him apart from any other spy. It was all he ever wanted, to be seen as different and to be identified apart from the rest. Now he had it, but it felt so harsh and wicked. The medic’s first response to seeing he was a spy was paranoia and anger, and then his response to seeing that he was the spy who stood apart by wearing a scarf in the middle of the desert was hatred.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his back and reached for his scarf. He froze, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. He was almost foolish enough to forget that he was in front of the medic. In private, he could remove the scarf and feel safe about it. He could not do so and feel safe here.

“You are not having a flashback or a hallucination by chance, are you?” the medic inquired.

He bit his lip and shook his head. He was sure it would have piqued the man’s scientific interest in him if he lied about something like that. It would be a bad situation though. He could not see any long term benefits in having the medic’s interest in him for thinking he was seeing things that were not there.

Truth be told, he did have a moment of memory. Perhaps it was a flashback, but it was not the kind of thing the medic would be interested in. In fact, it was something that the spy was not interested in sharing. It was something to keep to himself.

The spy was startled when he woke up. He had not realized he had fallen asleep. Now they had pulled to a stop and the scouts were climbing out of their seats. He could tell from the doors opening and the way the vehicle rocked that medic was getting out too.

Part of him was reluctant to get out. He just wanted to lay there and wallow in this feeling. It would not be long before nightfall came and it was his turn to drive anyways.

Still, he needed to get out and stretch a little bit. They would be on the road for a few more hours before they would get to do anything. He might as well take the opportunity to relieve the stress on his body before they resumed their long drive.

To his surprise, there was another vehicle outside. He stepped out and around the vehicle to find that there were two vehicles. They were both small cars, one beige and the other white. They did not look like any vehicles he had seen before, but he was sure they were not the types of vehicles one drove for military use. These were personal vehicles owned by somebody, rather than being owned by the military.

He stayed distant, watching as the medic and two scouts talked to these people. Wide eyes gawked at them and the spy recognized something similar to a camera. It was smaller than a camera, but it had a clicking noise and the man raised it to his eye. Clearly he was taking a photograph of some kind.

“So uh, if we follow the road going this way…we’re going into…what was it called again?” Skeeter asked a woman.

“Yorkshire,” she answered.

“Yorkshire?” Skeeter balked.

“Never heard of it,” Brian shook his head.

“Where…let’s just say we’ve traveled a long way and got lost,” the medic went on, “Where on a map…what general location would this Yorkshire be in…on a map that is?”

The woman hesitated before saying, “Um…Nevada?”

“Nevada? Why would there be a place named _Yorkshire_ in Nevada?!” Skeeter exclaimed irritably.

The woman shrugged, “We’re not from around here. We’re just heading to San Luego.”

“What is up with the new names?” Skeeter mumbled.

“San Luego at least sounds normal for around here,” Brian huffed.

“What is in…Yorkshire?” the medic inquired a bit hesitantly.

“Oh it’s a…it’s a small place,” the woman shrugged.

“You guys should definitely go there!” one of the men finally spoke up. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“I thought they were heading to the base there,” another man added.

“They clearly don’t know where they’re going,” another man muttered.

“We know where we are going,” the spy stepped up to draw their attentions away from his hapless travel companions. Their eyes all followed him as he meandered towards them. “Our destination is not Yorkshire,” the spy added, “We are going the wrong way.” He made a dramatic move, as if he were angry at the scouts. “We should be headed through San Luego.”

“Ohh,” one of the men hummed.

The scouts gave him the most incredulous look, as if he were insane. The medic was giving him a wary-eyed look.

“We’re headed that way!” the woman chirped happily, “We’ll be stopping at the hotel there. You boys might wanna stop for some supplies. You look like you need sunscreen!”

“Yea, uh…” Brian paused, studying the red tone of his arm, “It’s kinda sunny a lot and we sort of…maybe…forgot the sunscreen.”

“I’ll let you borrow mine,” the woman hurried to the white car and brought back a bottle of white cream. She put a dollop of the stuff into each of their hands, dissatisfied when they did not immediately start lathering their skin with the stuff.

When she approached the spy, she gave him the most incredulous look. She reeled back upon realizing that his attire was suited towards wintry weather. The way she balked drew attention from her comrades.

“Why are you wearing a scarf? It’s the middle of July in the desert!” one man exclaimed.

“Are you insane?” said another.

Medic barked a hearty laugh at that, “You don’t know the half of it!”

“You should…take that off before you get dehydrated and heat stroke,” the woman already reached for his scarf, pulling on one of the ends.

“No!” he barked, reeling back as hard as he could.

She looked at him with big confused eyes. He looked up to see the others being absolutely confused as well. Nobody had ever questioned his scarf before this. Comments were made, backhanded mentions had been professed, and other mercenaries had even teased him about it. Nobody had ever told him to take it off, let alone tried to remove it themselves. He was beside himself.

Skeeter laughed, then Brian laughed. “Yea, don’t touch his precious scarf,” Skeeter chuckled.

Spy realized he was clutching tightly to the scarf. He released it, suddenly realizing that he had been showing them how much he clung to this thing. He was suddenly vulnerable and exposed to them all. It felt worse than if she had removed the scarf.

He retreated, moving to the back of the vehicle. He pulled open the doors to sit on the back. The doors would protect him from their view for now. He just wanted to sit and breathe.

His heart was pounding in his throat and against his head. His skull decided to ache and he had to cover his eyes with his hands. Resting his eyes eased the pain up a little bit. It was hard to forget that harsh humiliation though.


	3. Vulnerable

Medic stood among chuckling people. Some of them just seemed to feel awkward about the exchange that just happened. The scouts – Skeeter and Brian now – were laughing because they genuinely found it funny. They were unfazed by how strange it was for a spy clone to react in this way.

He was familiar with the context of people getting attached to things. Of all spies, this spy always seemed the least bit attached. He did not bear the iconic mask that every other spy wore. If you were to try and pull it off of them they would claw and reel back.

It sort of explained why he would wear such a hot piece of clothing in the dry heat. He was not interested in explaining why the spy had a scarf though. It seemed obvious that wanting to stand out was a large motivation. Anytime anyone got a hold of anything, they clung to it like it held their identity.

The look on the spy’s face, the sudden open vulnerability made him wonder. The woman had not surprised the spy with her approach. The spy could not have been that surprised by her behavior. It would have been more in his favor, given that he was in front of his traveling companions, to have acted calmly and firmly. He could have easily given an excuse for the scarf to put the woman off kilter without becoming vulnerable himself.

That outburst was not like a calculated act. It was not controlled. It was a moment of raw emotion.

He shook himself and stopped partway towards the vehicle. What was he doing? He could not just buy into the spy’s act. If he started now, he would fall into the trap.

He had to remember that spies were all the same. They were all trained to be conniving. They all had the memories of the original. They were all Gabin to some extent. And whether the medic thought it was a useful thing to do or not, Gabin probably thought this act had been something useful to himself.

As night came the rain began to fall. The first rain they had experienced in months. It felt like forever since the last rainfall. Hearing it patter against the sides and windows of the vehicle left the medic feeling nostalgic. He thought about simpler times and what it was like a long time ago.

“Medic,” the spy’s voice was soft when he spoke. It was so gentle, calmly calling for his attention.

He hesitated, unsure about heeding to the call for his attention from his job of driving, “Yes?”

“Is it alright to call you Aurick?” the spy inquired hesitantly.

The medic eyed the other man sideways. The spy was looking away, clearly trying to avoid catching his gaze. “Yes? I suppose? Why?” he was not amused that his name would be chosen for him.

“It’s not that you’re like him,” the spy finally met his gaze, “It’s just…it’s a fitting name, isn’t it?”

He paused, before he finally nodded, “I suppose you’re right. It is.”

Spy gave him a small smile, then turned to stare up at the ceiling. Medic turned his head to look up at the ceiling as well. Being called Aurick again would feel strange. It was not a bad feeling, being familiar to his memories, but it would feel strange after distancing himself all of these years.

“Then I suppose I could call you Gabin, now?” the medic’s lips curled as he waited for the response, hoping to teach the spy how it felt to be called by that name.

“No,” the spy said softly, “Call me Lucien.”

“Lucien?” he was confounded. The spy had thought of a name for himself already. It was kind of an odd pick as well. “Why?” he blurted.

“I- I mean, Gabin had a cat named Lucien. He liked that cat. It was a good cat,” the spy explained.

“You like that cat?” the medic asked, folding his hands over his middle.

“Sure,” the spy replied, “I suppose in my memory it is something that I like.”

“You want to be that cat?” the medic went on. It only made sense that if the spy wanted to be called by the cat’s name, then he wanted to be the cat instead.

“What? No!” the spy replied sharply.

“You want to be like the cat?” the medic pressed on.

“No, it’s not like that,” the spy protested.

“You want to be liked the way Gabin liked the cat?” he asked.

“STOP IT!” the spy’s yell was so loud that it startled the driver.

The vehicle pulled to a stop and the two similar faces peered over the back of their seats. The two men in the back were silent as Skeeter and Brian silently questioned them. Brian, who was in the driver’s seat was the first to speak, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” the spy quickly dismissed them, “It’s nothing.”

Medic nodded, not wanting the scouts involved in this, “Just keep driving.”

“At least get some sleep. Jeez!” Skeeter flung a hand in an exaggerated gesture.

There was quiet for a long time. Neither of them spoke, quiet and unsure about the tension that existed there. For a while, the medic started to think that the spy might have actually dozed off again. Perhaps it was just him who felt the tension in the air, leaving him to feel that buzz of tension that could be cut with a knife.

“It was just a fond memory,” the spy’s soft voice finally broke the silence again.

Medic closed his eyes and thought back. The original Aurick used to work with Gabin. Gabin was not a liked character in any of his occupations. There was not much there that the medic could think of to redeem him. Though, he did remember an orange cat Gabin brought around.

“I remember the name, Lucien,” the medic hummed. He thought harder, trying to imagine the cat’s green eyes and orange fur. He tried to remember how the whiskers moved when it slowly blinked, acting as though Gabin’s hand was not even touching it.

“You do?” the spy’s voice was perplexed, “Oh, it wouldn’t have been the same cat. It was probably Aurick’s cat.”

The medic took a breath, “Orange cat, slanted eyes with emerald irises. A tired look when you pet him, as he pretends you’re not touching him until he can’t help but purr.”

The spy was silent for a long time. The medic could not bring himself to break the silence. He just thought about the cat. He remembered the cat. He remembered Gabin’s hand gently petting the cat. He did not remember if Gabin particularly liked the cat, but he remembered that he pet it often.

“When could you have ever met that cat?” the spy breathed.

“Gabin used to bring him to-” he cut off, lips still parted.

“Bring him to where?” the spy pressed.

“I don’t remember,” he blinked at the ceiling. He was silent for a moment, trying to focus on that memory of the cat. He could not get his focus past the cat, the hand stroking it and the sound of it purring. “I can remember the cat. I remember Gabin petting it. I don’t remember where we were. I mean, where Aurick was.”

“Impossible,” the spy whispered.

The medic fell silent, closing his eyes. He could practically see the moving image of that cat on the insides of his eyelids. He could see the cat plainly. He knew it was there. Yet, he could not bring himself to see anything outside of the cat, beyond the periphery. He supposed that it was a memory that was faded by time.

He knew he remembered a cat though. He remembered a ginger cat named Lucien. He remembered how the round cat would purr and purr endlessly. He remembered his sleepy green eyes, usually with lowered lids, like a glare. It was an intense gaze, yet the cat was warm and welcoming.

The spy cleared his throat. Medic looked at him with his eyes. The spy was not looking towards him. He had his knuckles to his mouth and his eyes on the dashboard. He appeared to be thinking, but the medic could not say what he was thinking about. Maybe it was memories brought back to him from talking about the cat named Lucien. Perhaps the spy was reconsidering what had been inferred about the name choice. Or maybe he was just trying to think of a way to change the topic at hand.

“What about you then?” the spy’s hand slowly lowered as he spoke. His voice was soft, with a calm and collected tone. “Do you hate the name Aurick so much?” the spy asked, “Is there a name you would prefer instead?”

“I…” he thought about the name. Thinking about being called the name did not seem like a terrible thing. It was a familiar thing for him, as it likely was for all clones of Aurick. “I am fond of the name,” he admitted, “I think that’s normal. I’m a clone of Aurick, with his memories implanted into my mind. It would be normal for me to feel like I am Aurick.”

“Redundant,” the spy commented.

“Is it not the same for you?” the medic asked, “You remember the name Gabin, don’t you?”

“I remember hating that name,” the spy’s tone became a growl.

The medic hesitated, “You hate that name?”

“Yes,” the spy replied.

“I…well, I can relate…in some way,” the medic replied.

“Aurick hated his name?” the spy inquired.

“Uh…” he hesitated, “No, I mean…Aurick did not hate the name. But I…I am not Aurick. I know I am not Aurick…I feel like I should be…I don’t know…different. I am different. I am not him. So, I should not be called the same.”

“Oh,” the spy hesitated.

“Oh?” the medic pressed.

“It’s not the same,” the spy shook his head slowly.

“It’s not? How so?” the medic tried to draw it out of him.

“Gabin hated his name,” the spy’s entire demeanor shifted.

“He hated it?” this was new information for him, “That’s- I didn’t- Aurick didn’t know that,” medic explained.

“By design,” the spy said sternly. He crossed his knees and leaned towards his door. His elbow pressed against the door and his face pressed against his knuckles, relaxed close to the door. “Gabin did not want anybody to know his name, let alone know that he did not like his name. He did a lot to make sure Aurick and everyone else did not figure that out.”

“So then…you?” the vehicle slowed down as he listened to the spy

“Every clone you’ve ever met…every clone of Gabin…” the spy let out a loud sigh, “We all hate the name.”

“I’m sorry,” the medic turned his full attention back to the road.

Silence followed these words. Nothing more was said. He was not sure what else to say anyways. In the back, he could almost hear the two younger clones breathing softly. He could not imagine they were sleeping now. They were likely hearing all of this. They might even be paying attention, listening and absorbing what the spy clone had just said.

Medic was not sure what had happened. All he was sure of was that a hand on his shoulder had startled him. He jolted, accidentally snorting.

“Medic!” the spy barked, “You’re falling asleep.”

“Huh?” he let off the gas, letting the vehicle slow down of its own accord. They were no longer in the city they had been in before, but there were houses every once in a long while. He could afford to rub his eyes for a few minutes before he’d see another country house.

“Holy shit, don’t fall asleep!” Skeeter looked over the back of the seats.

“I have a feeling it’s about time to switch,” the spy rubbed his shoulder.

He tensed, listening as the spy spoke to him. He was not sure why he was touching him though. He turned his eyes, studying the spy warily.

“Let’s take a rest, the scouts can take the wheel,” the spy assured him.

“That’s Skeeter!” one scout spouted.

“And Brian,” the other said in a softer voice.

The two scouts climbed out, so medic followed suit. He was tired anyways. He could use a good rest. The sun was already starting to show his color so he might as well turn in.


	4. Aurick's Partner

_The long dark road stretched past visibility. In this weather, it was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The thick fog clouded the area, like a thick white dust. It clung to the air, hovering around the moving vehicle forever._

_“Can this thing not go any faster?” the voice of the man in the passenger seat whined._

_Aurick chuckled wryly, “If it did, I’m sure we would be in a lot more danger with this fog.”_

_Randal sighed and slumped in his seat, “The car slows us down. The construction slows us down. The fog slows us down. What’s next? Are you going to slow us down?”_

_Aurick laughed a bit. Randal was always the type to whine and pester about everything that bothered him. It would just be his little amusement for the car ride._

_“You know, it would be nice if she could have told us over the phone about the…you know…about the results?” Randal explained._

_Aurick rolled his eyes playfully, “We will find out when we get there. They want us to see what the results are for ourselves.”_

_“This reeks with incompetence,” Randal replied dismissively._

_Aurick laughed again. His cheeks were already starting to hurt. At this point he wondered if Randal was just riling him up on purpose. It would not be unlike him to do so._

_“Are you going to fire her?” Randal asked, sounding a bit more serious than his usual jolly mood._

_“For not being able to pinpoint the results without me? No,” Aurick shook his head._

_“Incompetence is a fire-able offense, Aurick,” Randal replied, “You should be stricter with those who work under you.”_

_Aurick shook his head, “I don’t pay them. Why should I care about the strictness under which they work?”_

_“Exactly!” Randal barked, “They need stricter conditions! It’s not like you’re desperate for their help.”_

_“But hiring somebody new would be inconvenient and a mess,” Aurick argued, “Besides, we have enough to blackmail our way out of anything.” Aurick giggled as he shot Randal a playful grin. “If we dump an assistant, we dump a lot of that power.”_

_“True,” Randal admitted with a begrudging sigh, “It would just be nice if the assistants were…you know…competent scientists.”_

_“They are competent enough,” Aurick shook his head._

_Suddenly an explosion of earth shook the vehicle. Aurick could hear nothing but the raging roar of the explosion itself. The car tilted and he lost control. It swerved and veered away from the blast. The push from it was too powerful for the steering to mean anything. Aurick simply clenched the steering wheel and closed his eyes._

_He did not know when Randal ended up against him, but he felt the man’s arms wrapped around his arm. The world around them shook and the vehicle took a while to finally come to a standstill._

_Breathing heavily, Aurick looked around. He could not see much through the fog. It was far too thick to see anything. What he could see was the nearby damage, with upturned concrete and ravaged earth._

_“Oh God…Aurick? Can you drive?” Randal’s shaky voice whimpered beside him. It took him a few moments to register that the man had his face pressed against his shoulder. “I think we need to get out of here!”_

_Aurick nodded silently as he put the vehicle into drive again. The wheels spun. He could barely hear them moving outside. However, the vehicle did not move, apparently trapped in place._

_“We’re stuck,” he informed his companion._

_“Shit! No! We can’t be stuck!” Randal pleaded with him._

_“We are stuck,” Aurick insisted, putting the vehicle into park._

_“No!” Randal barked defiantly, “We’re almost there and we have to get the results!”_

_“Randal, a missile almost overturned the car,” Aurick released the steering wheel, wringing his shaky hands. He wanted to stop the shaking and feel calmer than he was actually feeling at the moment. “We almost died and we are dead in the water,” his heart began to pound manically against his chest. His ribcage barely held back the furious organ that screamed to get out and flee. “The results should be the last thing on your mind!”_

_He threw his door open and hopped out. He stepped towards the hind wheel to check. Sure enough, it was dropped into some sagging mud. He walked around the car just in time to hear the passenger side door open. He paid Randal no mind as he inspected the other wheel. This one was propped up, with the edge of the car balanced upon a chunk of concrete and earth debris from the blast. The wheel sat freely over an opening in the ground that had been torn up by the explosion._

_“Can you fix it?” Randal called from his door._

_“No,” Aurick answered loudly, though not as loudly as Randal. They were not so far away that he needed to be that noisy._

_The distant sound of a plane caught his ear. His heart dropped and he rushed for the door. He grabbed Randal’s arm and pulled him out of the vehicle. He ducked in briefly to grab his briefcase. Without a word, he threw the door shut and took off._

_“What the hell are we doing?!” Randal exclaimed._

_“Getting the hell out of here,” Aurick answered._

_Randal scoffed loudly but followed the hand that dragged him along. Eventually, Aurick felt something plop on top of his head. It was probably a hat, but he just ignored it. They had a long way to run to get away from what was apparently a blast zone._

_Neither of them spoke a word. Their feet pounded against the ground with all of the force they could muster. Their breathing was loud as they hurried through the thick and dreary fog. They could not be bothered with being heard though. The enemy was high up in the air, likely circling back to attack whatever civilian area they were passing through. Aurick was not worried about spies or snipers taking shots at him._

_“Aurick!” Randal panted, “Slow down!”_

_“We cannot slow down,” Aurick insisted urgently, “We have to get out of here! We have to stay away from those missiles.”_

_“Fuck!” the other man stumbled over his feet, “I can’t- I can’t keep up!” He was panting heavily and stumbling sporadically._

_“You can do it,” Aurick urged him, “You can make it.”_

_The distant rumble of a blast caught his ear. They were far enough away that it would not effect them. That did not mean that they were in the clear just yet. They had a long way to go to get to safety._

_The best place to be would actually be a bomb shelter. Something that would protect them from blasts would be far greater than running in the open. Aurick just hoped that being in a thick fog would obscure the visuals enough that nobody would notice them. They would pass through this place unnoticed and hurry on to their destination._

_“I know I was eager…to…to get there…” Randal panted, “But I am not this eager to die!”_

_“Just keep going!” Aurick called out as the hand he was holding suddenly yanked away._

_He pulled his body to a stop and turned to face Randal. The man was doubled over, with his hands on his knees. He could hear his heavy panting, struggling to keep his breath and stay upright. He was visibly shaking now, unable to cope with how much work was being put on his body. Randal was in no shape to run, let alone escape for his life._

_“Randal, I know you’re tired,” he coaxed the man gently._

_“You…” Randal panted tiredly, raising a hand to gesture randomly, “You don’t even…know…the half of it…agh!”_

_Aurick lowered himself a little, reaching down to touch Randal’s head. As the man raised his head, Aurick’s hand slid down to lay on his cheek. Their eyes locked and he felt that Randal knew he was speaking with whole-heartedness._

_“Listen to me, Randal,” he spoke softly, “Listen very closely. I know you’re tired. This is a very stressful situation. You weren’t trained to deal with it. But this is how you deal with it. You aren’t given a second chance to go back to the drawing board and try an escape again. You must run and you must not stop.”_

_“We’re gonna die here, aren’t we?” the sad look in his eyes gave Aurick a sick feeling in his heart._

_“No, no we’re not,” Aurick insisted._

_“Then, we can afford a rest?” Randal suggested._

_“No, that is how we die,” Aurick took Randal’s arm and pulled him upright by force, “I told you we won’t die today. This is how we won’t die today.”_

_“But I…I can’t run,” Randal shook his head with a tired huff._

_“Yes, you can! You were doing it! Just keep doing it!” Aurick insisted fervently._

_“I’m- I can’t. It burns,” Randal put a hand on his own side._

_“Just keep running,” Aurick pulled him along. They were not running at this ambling speed, but at least they were moving._

_“I can’t! I can’t do this!” Randal protested, trying to pull away again, “Just go without me.”_

_“You know I won’t do that,” Aurick responded sternly, “Just keep moving.”_

_“What’s the point?” Randal whined._

_“The point is surviving!” Aurick insisted, tugging a little harder on Randal’s arm._

_“And there is no point in surviving!” in a fit of rage, Randal ripped his arm out of Aurick’s grip._

The two of them ambled to a stop. Aurick looked to the other man, who dropped to his knees. They were quiet for a few moments, trying to gather their wits.

_“There is a point in surviving,” Aurick insisted, “It is the only meaning we have in life.”_

_“The only meaning, you mean,” Randal growled, “Oh right, you can’t empathize with the rest of us.”_

_“What is that supposed to mean?” Aurick balked._

_“What is it supposed to mean? It means, you have no idea how good you have it!” Randal exclaimed loudly, “You haven’t known how good you have had it in a long time! Ever since they picked you? It’s been all about you! You call the shots. You call the wins. You get the credit. I get…whatever’s left over.”_

_“What are you talking about?” Aurick flung his hands into the air, “You’re my partner! You’re my partner in everything! Your name is on everything I write! You’re involved in everything I do! What do I get that you do not? When did this start?”_

_“They picked you!” Randal flung an arm towards him, pointing at Aurick’s face, “They picked you! They chose to have your face all over the banners. They chose your DnA to make those clones. They chose you!”_

_Aurick felt a hot burning fury, “They chose me and I hate it! You’ve been the only person who’s helped me through this, and now you’re turning against me?!”_

_“Oh, it’s always got to be about you! Doesn’t it?” Randal barked out angrily._

_The hum of airplanes caught Aurick’s attention. He flinched away, reminded that this fit they were having was right in the middle of a bombardment. They were in danger and this was no place to be talking about this bullshit._

_“How can decades of working together and being together…being each other’s only support…how can that all crumble with such foolish jealousy?” Aurick demanded._

_“I…” Randal stopped speaking as he looked up at Aurick, “I don’t know.”_

_Aurick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He held out his hand, an offering of truce. He had never offered a bad hand to Randal. He was not about to start betraying his trust now. He would validate the man’s feelings later. Right now, he had to get him to safety._

_“We’re under threat of bombardment,” Aurick spoke slowly and calmly, “If we stay out here, we’ll both die.”_

_His words were emphasized by the distant crash of a bomb. It was somewhere else. It was so far away, so distant. Yet, it was decidedly too close._

_“If you come with me, we can work things out…like we always do,” Aurick offered, “We can make compromise and move forward. It’s you and me.”_

_Randal swallowed, looking like he was debating this. thinking it over in his mind, he did not seem to be certain about which outcome he preferred. The longer he took to think about it, the more worried Aurick grew. It was not just about he bombs off in the distance, it was the chances that things might be falling apart here._

_“Have I ever refused you anything you’ve asked for?” Aurick asked, “Have I ever withheld from you?”_

_Randal hesitated before quietly stating, “No.”_

_“Then trust me now, and let’s go,” Aurick gestured for Randal to take his hand._

_Randal looked down at the ground, “I’m tired of being insignificant.”_

_“But you’re not insignificant!” Aurick pleaded, “You’re wonderful! You’re everything! Honestly…if I didn’t have you…the man I am would crumple inside. I’d be some bitter, cold-hearted hermit with no thought for anyone. You make me want to be better. You make me want to do better. So of course, if you are feeling this way, I will help you! But…you must take my hand now so we can take this course together!”_

_Randal seemed to have finally heard and agreed to his plea. Taking Aurick’s hand, Randal straightened himself up and nodded. There were tears forming in his eyes though. He was still very stressed and emotional about this._

_“Let’s go,” Randal said, “And when we get there, you tell no one of this.”_

_“I promise,” Aurick gave a small chuckle._

_He was so relieved that as he pulled on Randal’s hand, and the man stumbled closer, he took a chance and pecked his forehead. All of his anxiety about the explosives in the distance were gone. Everything did not matter. As long as he had Randal, he felt he could be at peace._

_“Let’s go together,” Randal squeezed his hand._

_“And when we’ve sorted out the results of the serum, we can sort out these feelings,” he squeezed Randal’s hand in turn._

_“I think I already have,” Randal stepped in closer and drew Aurick into a kiss. Aurick barely had a chance to breathe in the smell of his partner before they were caught up in a loving embrace._


	5. Edge of Nerves

Medic was roused by the vehicle rolling to a stop. At first, he just opened his eyes and listened to the scouts talking. He was not in any mood to get up, but it might be necessary to stretch his legs.

“Wow, would you look at that?” one scout asked.

“It appears to be a war propaganda board,” Brian’s more refined tone set him apart from his fellow scout clone.

“The Collective…” Skeeter’s voice trailed off into mumbles.

“They want the people’s support,” Brian explained to him.

“What for?” Skeeter inquired.

“I would assume having support would be better for the war,” Brian said, almost dismissively.

“No, I mean like…yea I guess that makes sense. But like, what do they want them to support? You’ve got those guys and these guys. And then ‘your vote counts’ like that means anything. What the hell does that mean?” Skeeter asked.

Brian chuckled light-heartedly, “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Skeeter asked, “If we’re out here in society then we will be voting. Won’t we? It does say that our votes count for something.”

“It counts for nothing,” Brian said dismissively, “Even if it did, it’s just a war in which clones are sent to both sides. It’s useless.”

“I don’t get it,” the vehicle started driving again.

“What don’t you get?” Brian asked.

“What’s so useless about it? The billboard says that voting counts for something,” Skeeter pressed.

There were a few moments of silence, interrupted by the shifting of clothes. Medic realized that Brian was likely patting Skeeter’s shoulder. From the sounds of it, he was trying to offer comfort for the mental strain that confusion was putting him through.

“I have seen all manner of clones go through the facility,” Brian explained, “And, to be honest? It’s not like it mattered where they were going after.”

“But it does matter!” Skeeter exclaimed. His voice was suddenly heated, raising in volume.

“No it doesn’t,” Brian protested, “Clones could end up at either-”

“After the facility they end up at the front! It’s a dangerous and deadly place! It’s terrifying. The rules are different there. Nobody is nice to you. Like, I thought I had friends there but they betrayed me too,” Skeeter explained hastily.

“Yes, I see. I understand,” Brian spoke hastily as he tried to quiet the other scout down, “But that just makes it not matter even more.”

“How can you say that?! You’ve never even been there! You’ve never seen it!” Skeeter raised his voice a little more.

“I’m trying to say that they just throw clones into the war,” Brian raised his voice to be heard, “That’s it. They throw clones at the war. And, it doesn’t matter what side the clone ends up on. It’s just a matter of time before-”

“Just shut up!” Skeeter snapped, “Shut up, already!”

“Oh…okay,” Brian’s meeker voice petered down. There was a low sigh, but medic was not sure which scout it came from.

Next to him came an irritated sigh. The spy shifted, trying to get more comfortable. It seemed he was more awake than the medic was at that point.

“Finally, some damn peace and quiet,” the spy grumbled irritably.

“Shut up, spy,” Skeeter snapped.

“Watch your tone with me, boy,” the spy growled in warning.

“Don’t make me pull this damn car over! Because I will!” Skeeter warned.

“And then what?” the spy challenged, “Going to come back here and try something stupid? You’ll only fail, you pathetic little-” The spy cut off as he suddenly looked at medic.

Medic looked back at him, stunned at this behavior. Maybe some grumpiness could be chopped up to the spy being exhausted. They had driven all through the night, after all. He was being more aggressive than he had been recently though.

Suddenly, the car skidded to a halt. Medic could hear Skeeter’s heavy angered breathing from the driver’s seat. He realized that the breathing did not matter though because he was eye to eye locked with the spy. Being wide awake and witnessing the behavior, he felt like a façade had crumbled before him. Here was the spy, being his true untrustworthy self.

“Just let it go!” Brian said to Skeeter.

Medic said nothing. Spy said nothing. They stared at each other. Neither of them had anything to say, and it made understanding what the other was thinking that much harder.

Medic took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up. He kept the spy within his peripheral vision, as he slowly scooted to the back doors. He climbed out, letting his legs stretch.

“Medic!” the spy called to him.

He ignored the spy, walking over to the driver’s side door. He opened the door to find a surprised scout. Skeeter stared at him wordlessly, for once unable to voice a thought about the situation.

“Medic, we gotta go,” Brian piped up.

“Brian, get in the back,” medic gestured with a thumb.

“What? But I-” Brian gave him a confused look as he searched for answers in the medic’s face.

“Get in the back,” the medic insisted, “We’re switching.”

“I- but you drove all night!” Brian protested.

“And I’m going to drive for an hour,” he turned his attention to Skeeter, “Get in the other seat.”

Skeeter flinched, pulled instantly to attention. He gave a sharp nod, then took off running around the front of the vehicle. Skeeter switched places with Brian and medic climbed into the driver’s seat.

After the back doors closed behind Brian, medic put the vehicle into drive again. He listened to the silence there, replacing the previous conversation that was had. It was too quiet. After years of wanting noisy rowdy mercenaries to shut up, he finally got this peace and wanted it to end already.

“Doc…” Skeeter said meekly.

“Don’t bother,” the medic said quietly.

“But I- I’m fine to drive,” Skeeter insisted.

“And you’re fine to sit there and calm down for an hour,” the medic replied, “Don’t argue with me.”

“I’m not,” Skeeter insisted, “It’s just…you drove all night. You should rest and stuff. Brian could have taken the wheel, if that makes you comfortable.”

“It’s not about-” he cut himself off to think more about what he was saying. He was definitely not comfortable staying back there with the spy anymore. If he told that to Skeeter now, the spy and Brian would also hear it. That was assuming that he even wanted his own scout to know about this disconcerting wariness he had for the scarf spy. “Just shut up and relax for a bit,” the medic barked, “You’ll be taking back the wheel when we stop next.”

Skeeter took a deep breath and sighed, “You know, you can be a bit of a bully sometimes. You know that?”

Medic hesitated before glancing at Skeeter. The younger man gave him his full attention. His big eyes were full of innocence, despite his years of work at the front. He looked just like any other Skeeter clone, but he was one of a kind. Medic could not explain it, as it was not some tangible thing one could see. It was more about who he was, who he had become in spite of his circumstances.

Medic wondered what Skeeter thought of him. He never bothered to care what others thought of him before. That was why he had no cared about killing off other clones on his team before. It was practically kill or be killed on the battlefront.

He knew Skeeter now, this Skeeter. This clone was so much different from the others. He was so much sweeter. He was thoughtful. He was kind. He could be mouthy, but he meant well. He could be stubborn, but it was mere pride and independence that made him that way.

He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. If Skeeter ever put behind him the acts of the past, medic was not sure what was left. With no battle left, he was not a fighter. With no antagonists he was no hero. Not that he ever considered himself to be a hero. He had been, less than cooperative back at the front.

“I’m glad we’re friends,” Skeeter’s voice was softer and calmer when he spoke this time.

Medic smiled to himself. They were friends. Maybe that was all he needed to know. When it came to how Skeeter thought about him, it was that they were friends.

“When I get to talk to you, I feel like I’m not scout number thirty-one,” Skeeter went on, “I’m just me.”

Medic blinked as he thought back. That was right. The clones used to use numbers to identify themselves. When other clones would die, that would bump up their number. Before his capture by the enemy and their eventual escape from that life, Skeeter had been scout number thirty-one.

It was strange to think that Skeeter’s experience was so different from any of theirs. He was just a scout, but it was not like the medic had had any other number for very long. He had become medic number one very quickly, and for the rest of his years he stayed medic number one. Well, that was before the enemy’s medics decided to try and integrate him into their ranks.

Even spy could not possibly know what that was like. Medic could not imagine that spy, having been on the same team, was number two or so for very long. He was the scarf spy, and that put him on a rung above the rest. He was spy number one, the one and only spy who survived the war.

“I guess it’s cool that we’re hanging out now,” Skeeter went on, barely missing a beat, “You’ve been hanging out with the spy so much I was starting to suspect…” Skeeter paused and reached over to nudge him with an elbow.

The medic gave him a confused glare. When Skeeter did not get the response he had hoped for, his face started to turn rouge. He scratched the back of his neck as he diverted his eyes out the window.

“It’s just…you know…you like guys, right?” Skeeter spoke slowly.

“Excuse me?” suddenly the spy rose, hanging over the middle seat to turn on Skeeter, “Are you insinuating I’d be in a relationship with medic? Is that what you are implying here?”

“No!” Skeeter had his back and shoulder pressed up against the door.

“What are you implying then?” the spy demanded.

“Spy! Sit down!” the medic raised his voice.

“Freaking hell! Just calm down!” Skeeter flailed his arms a bit obnoxiously.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you little-” he was cut off as medic slammed on the brakes.

He turned, directing his glare at the spy. The spy gave him a wide eyed look, immediately frozen and without words. He looked at Skeeter who flinched away.

“If you idiots don’t keep it down, I’m going to pull over this car,” medic could hear the baritone in his own voice, “And I’m not gentle with a bonesaw.”

“Medic! Calm down!” Skeeter exclaimed.

Spy slowly crawled to the back of the vehicle. He kept his eyes on medic, wary that he might be attacked. He said nothing, giving only his attention.

“You are all idiots,” medic mumbled, putting the vehicle back into gear.

The vehicle barely started rolling again before he heard Brian quietly say, “Freaking lunatic.”

Medic slammed on the brake again. He squeezed the steering wheel, wishing it was the scout’s throat. He was fed up with his companions already. So much for disliking the peace and quiet, he was missing it already.

“Calm down, doc,” Skeeter put a hand on his arm, gently coaxing him to be calm, “Everybody’s just…getting on each other’s nerves.”

“I’d say it’s more than that,” Brian got up onto his knees, “You’re not fit to drive right now, given how long you were awake last night. You might fall asleep at the wheel.”

“It’s fine, Brian,” Skeeter said to the other scout through clenched teeth, “Just shut up.”

“The idiots are correct,” the spy spoke up, “We have been driving nonstop, and our only has been through rotations.”

“If we stop here, what are we going to do? Where are we going to go?” the medic used the rear view mirror to look at the spy.

Lucien. The name trickled through his mind like an ounce of water. As the spy’s eyes stared back at him, he could have sworn he could see cat green irises.

“It’s not like they’re gonna kill us around here,” Skeeter spoke up, “They see our faces like…everywhere! We’re freaking war heroes!”

The medic was a bit surprised by that word being used. Heroes? They had not thought of themselves as the heroes of anything. The medic certainly could not see that being a word that described any of the men in this vehicle either, including himself.

“Nah,” Brian protested, “Nah, it’s not likely we’d be very welcomed.”

“What do you mean? Those people from before thought we were pretty cool!” Skeeter argued, “They wanted pictures with us and everything!”

“Tourists,” the spy mumbled.

“From what Tanner told me,” Brian interrupted, “And he told me a lot…he told me that the war efforts are important, but so are precautions. They’ve warned people against interacting with us. There’s like…warning signs…in case any clones make it out this far. So like, they’re not supposed to talk to us.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Skeeter scoffed.

“Because…it didn’t seem relevant,” Brian shrugged, “Better not to remind civilians that we’re not supposed to be here.”

“Tourists,” spy repeated the word.

“So, if they know we aren’t supposed to be here, then they aren’t going to welcome us,” Brian explained, “They will report us to the nearest military base.”

“They were tourists,” spy raised his voice a little bit.

“Alright! We get it! So what?” Skeeter threw up his hands.

“So, people who do not live near the edge are unaccustomed to the rules. They are not familiar with whatever mantras are taught to the locals of this area,” the spy explained.

“Yea, that’s a given,” Skeeter rolled his eyes.

Spy reached over the back of the seat. He pointed to a device built into the dashboard. It had the typical NWSE symbols, indicating which direction they were headed. Spy then pointed north.

“We go north,” he explained, “We travel as far away from the edge as possible.”

“No shit, that’s what we should do,” Brian spoke up irritably.

“We need to stop following this road,” spy turned his words to medic, “It is only going to go east and west. We should go off road and go north. It will take us farther from the war territory. It will get us closer to safety.”

“You think it’s such a good idea to go off road?” Brian asked.

“Well, we were off road before all of this,” Skeeter shrugged.

The medic silently nodded. He released the brake and turned off the road. The needle on the device pointed towards the N as they drove off the road and through desert again.

“You sure this is the right way, though?” Skeeter asked.

“It will work,” the spy insisted.

“It’s too bad we don’t have like…some end goal,” Brian said with a huff.

“We do have an end goal,” spy answered.

“Like…a place that we’re planning on going?” Brian asked, with a hopeful change of tone.

“First we move north,” the spy explained, “We get as far from the edge as possible, then we use foolishness to get our hands on a map.”

“A bit vague, but I guess it works,” Skeeter shrugged.


	6. The Spy, The Thief

_When spy roused, the room was quiet. The light overhead was bright and it flickered wickedly to sting his eyes. He felt like he needed some water after the altercation he had been a part of. He needed something to wash away the bitter copper taste from his mouth._

_“You are just a clone,” the voice on the speaker was a little different than he remembered from before. It was a different man, who was calmer. He had a clear voice, with a clear tone that demanded attention. “You are a copy of the original. You are a cog in the machine.”_

_“No,” spy’s voice was weak and hoarse. He needed some water to wash away the awful taste._

_“Resistance is futile,” the speaker said, “You are just a clone. You are just a copy. You are part of this machine. Loyalty to the machine will build loyalty to the clone.”_

_“No, I’m not,” his voice was so hoarse and his body was very shaky. He forced himself up onto his feet though._

_“Every clone must do his part,” the speaker droned on._

_“I’m not a clone!” he charged the door, throwing his fist into it._

_“You are but a cog in the machine,” the voice told him, “You aren’t special. You aren’t the original. You don’t even have a name.”_

_“I have a name!” the spy growled in disdain, “I am a human! I have a name! You can’t take that away from me!”_

_“You are just a clone,” the speaker said calmly._

_“I am not a clone! I was born of a man and a woman!” the spy announced, refusing to listen to the speaker._

_“Those memories? They’re not your memories,” the speaker finally sounded like it was responding directly to him._

_“These are my memories alright!” the spy retorted, “And this is my head!” He touched his head, but felt rather awkward while doing so._

_“Those memories are a fabricated mess imprinted into your brain,” the speaker told him in a formal tone._

_“Those memories are _my_ experiences! You can’t take those away from me!” the spy protested._

_“We don’t want to take away your memories,” the speaker replied, “You’re just another clone with the same memories.”_

_“I’m not a clone! For the last time! I’m not a clone!” he raised his voice angrily._

_“You’re just a copy, with the same face,” the speaker informed him._

_“I’m quite done listening to you!” the spy announced, “Just because you say something is does not mean it is! Nonsense is nonsense no matter how many times you say it!”_

_“You are still a copy,” the speaker replied, “Nothing is different. Nothing changes. Just because you have the memories does not mean you are the original. You are just a clone of the man.”_

_“I am the man himself!” he puffed up his chest proudly._

_He was put off by the eerie chuckling that followed. He felt a chill run down his spine as the speaker fell silent. He listened for a few moments, waiting for what the speaker might say to him next. All of this nonsense had to be leading to something, after all._

_“That man is dead,” the speaker said with a hollow tone, “Buried for his many crimes.”_

_“He’s not dead if I am he!” the spy announced. He started laughing, but that was mainly because he was uncomfortable._

_“You are just a clone,” the speaker told him, “A copy of the original. A genetic replication of what came before you. You are not original. You are not unique. You are not special.”_

_“You’re full of bullshit! That’s what you are,” the spy protested._

_“Do you _really_ think the original spy would have been left to his own devices for this long?” the speaker chuckled._

_“What?” the spy felt a cold sinking sensation in his gut, “What do you mean?”_

_“Spy?” a familiar voice called to him._

_“What?” the spy paused, frozen in place._

_“You are just a clone, a copy,” the speaker went on without skipping a beat._

_“Spy!” the familiar voice barked._

_The spy could not open his mouth and voice anything. His voice felt weak. It was like it had weights placed upon it, preventing it from stretching._

_“Lucien!” he heard Aurick bark._

Spy jolted upright and looked around. Skeeter had a hand on his arm and was shaking him. Brian was on the other side of him, kneeling opposite of Skeeter. They were both apparently trying to wake him.

“Oh yea,” Skeeter barked a laugh.

“Come on, let’s go,” Brian tried to help the spy up, but he refused, jerking his arms away.

He grabbed onto one end of his scarf, discreetly tangling one hand in it. Its soft texture brought him back. He had learned from experience that being brought back down, concentrating on this thing, helped him recover from the memories.

He slowly edged his way out of the back doors. The scouts followed, a little curious about the spy’s apparently out of sorts behavior. He ignored their whisperings and took a leisurely few steps away from the vehicle to stretch and get some fresh air.

He rubbed his eyes, finally waking his body up from that terrible nightmare. He was not entirely fond of the desert environment they were in, given how grievously hot it was outside. However, anything was better than being locked up and contained.

“You seemed quite stressed in your sleep,” he heard the medic’s voice before he saw the man approach him.

He turned to face him, wishing he was not still clutching the scarf. If he released it now, the clever man would notice it and take advantage of that piece of information. He had barely broken down that barrier that existed between them, he was not sure he could easily let the medic have this information just yet.

“Just another nightmare,” the spy assured him, “Comes and goes. Everyone gets them.”

“I could have sworn,” a gentle hand laid its back against the spy’s forehead.

The spy felt his heart leap up and flip over. It did something like a happy dance. He was not sure how to best express it without being overly eager, so he covered the feeling. He showed nothing but a blank expression.

The medic frowned, “You’re sweating. Do night terrors stress you out this badly?”

The spy could feel the blood draining from his head as he realized that the medic was keener than he had expected. The man was catching on too fast and he did not want to be caught up in whatever the man would do, while they still had this strange barrier between them.

“Sp- Lucien?” the medic was quick to correct himself as he pressed for more.

“It’s the heat,” the spy insisted, “It is just the heat getting to me. It always does. It always has. It always w-”

He was cut off when the medic said, “You should take it off then.”

The spy paused, “Excuse me?”

The medic gestured to the scarf, “You should remove the scarf. It’s causing you to overheat, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine,” the spy took a step back, putting distance between medic and his scarf.

“Why do you wear that?” the medic pointed to the scarf, “We have lived and worked in the middle of the desert. Do you not see the problems it causes you?”

“It’s just a scarf,” the spy tried to use a dismissive gesture of his hand, “Besides, I think we need to…” He looked around, getting his bearings for the first time. They were in a small town, something that looked rural. “What are we doing here?”

“Don’t change the topic,” the medic shook his head.

“Look over there!” Skeeter caught their attention, pointing towards a building with a sign in front, “Let’s go there for lunch!”

“Skeeter,” Brian tugged on the other scout’s shirt, “We don’t have any money.”

“We have a spy,” Skeeter pointed to the spy.

“What’s that going to do for us?” Brian gave him a confounded look.

Skeeter turned to spy, “What do you say spy? Think you can-”

“Are you going to ask him to steal?!” Brain interrupted with an incredulous tone.

The two scouts locked eyes and suddenly broke into a loud an incomprehensible argument. Spy had been privy to many scout arguments, but this was very different. Despite being the same clone with the same memories, they were two very different people. Their experiences differed and that seemed to clash right here at the topic of theft.

He turned his attention back to the medic, who was quiet. The man was mainly focused on the scouts, curiously studying their erratic behavior. He kept that studious look on his face, like the very fact that the scouts were arguing was some unique and intriguing thing.

The spy was not a fool though. This was part of what the medic was going through now. It was a brick in his barrier, holding up the wall that the spy could not seem to break through.

The medic’s obsession with the veteran scout was almost comical at times. Once upon a time, this very same man would have butchered every scout that came into his infirmary, just because he was having a bad day. This was that same man, but somehow he was keen on this scout.

The obsession had nothing to do with Brian. Brian was just an extra they had picked up from the facility. He was just another clone that had joined them on their quest for freedom.

Despite this, the medic was rather quiet about his wants. The spy could not be entirely sure if the obsession was entirely based on loneliness or if there were some genuine feelings he was having. If he had let the scout die back in the desert, when he was alone with the chaotic youth, his medic might have felt the same heartache that he felt when he thought he had lost his medic. He did not like thinking about hurting his medic like that.

Still, this remained a barrier between them. The medic’s focus was on the scout. If it was not on the scout, it was a wary eye that kept the spy within her peripheral attention. Nothing escaped that attention, no moment of irritation or aggressive outburst. The spy was limited in what he could do when the medic was keeping his watchful eye out.

“We shouldn’t be out here arguing about this in the middle of broad daylight,” the medic rubbed his eye sleepily.

The spy jumped at the chance to be on the medic’s side, “That’s right. Our faces are likely known here. So we need to be aware of what attention we draw.”

“From who?” Skeeter asked, looking around. Thankfully, there were no pedestrians around to hear them arguing.

“You mean, from whom?” Brian corrected.

“Don’t freaking start!” Skeeter turned on the other scout.

“I didn’t start anything!” Brian protested, folding his arms over his chest.

“Doctor?” the spy caught the medic’s attention, “I think we need to get them inside.” He gestured to the vehicle.

The medic nodded in response and the two of them grabbed a scout each. He was not surprised that medic stepped ahead of him to grab Skeeter, leaving him to grab Brian. He did not care either way, personally. It was just that little reassurance that the medic still felt something for the scout, something that would not be for himself.

They harried the scouts into the back, then climbed in themselves. With the doors finally closed, they were finally safe to speak. At least, they were safe for the most part. Spy was starting to feel the heat eat at him. This vehicle was not well ventilated and that meant that it was hotter inside than outside.

“Look, we need food,” Skeeter explained, “One way or another, we have to get rations somehow. We’re out!”

“We can’t just steal it!” Brian protested, “We don’t know what could come of theft. We don’t know what their security measures are. We certainly don’t want attention drawn to us.”

“And that’s why you’re going to make a diversion,” the spy pointed to each of the scouts.

“What?” both scouts asked in unison.

“Both of you are good at doing that,” the medic nodded in approval of this plot.

“I’m not…really…” Brian protested hesitantly.

The spy shook his head, “Just follow Skeeter’s lead. Do what you would have done…if you were Skeeter. Use your memories to your advantage.”

Brian visibly winced at that. Skeeter put a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it to comfort him. “You can do this,” Skeeter encouraged him.

The spy turned his attention to the medic, who was waiting for something to do in all of this. “Medic, we may need a getaway driver. So, if it is all the same to you, please stay in the vehicle and be prepared to drive in a hurry.”

Medic nodded, “Alright.”

Skeeter grinned, “Let’s get in there and distract the hell out of those folks!”

“Wait!” the spy put a hand on the door just as Skeeter was about to open it, “A distraction only works for so long. You cannot just start off the bat. Go in there calmly and do not attract attention to yourselves. When I signal to you, that is when you start the distraction.”

“Why? You rusty?” Skeeter taunted.

The spy rolled his eyes, “No, I will need to pinpoint specific targets.”

“Right, got it,” Brian affirmed with a nod, “We’ll go in calmly and wait for your signal.” Brian took the lead this time, climbing out with Skeeter following close behind.

Spy glanced at the medic. The man was studying him curiously. He did not balk in his gaze, instead feeling triumphant in some way. He wanted to tell the man to keep looking at him, to stare all day. He wanted his attention.

The spy pulled back his sleeve to reveal his invis watch. Seeing that it was charged and ready, he decided to save the charge for when he would most need it. He climbed out the back and hurriedly followed the scouts.

The moment they stepped through the doors, they were greeted by cold crisp air. It was like the world inside of this building was made of ice. Yet, there was no ice in sight. The spy separated from the two scouts, who meandered between the booths.

This place was not too crowded, which made the spy nervous. If he did not get the right opportunity here, he would not be able to steal anything without being caught. The scouts would have to pry some of these people right out of their seats.

He took a headcount of the place, noting how many people were there. Then he did a profile on each individual that he could best target. Perhaps this was not the best place for them to be stealing money, but they did not have time to waste when they needed food.

His gut growled, reminding him that he had not eaten in a few days. What rations they had brought were gone. They were all going to starve if they did not get something.

His attention went to the counter. There were two young women behind the counter dressed in uniform. They were fairly distracted with discussion of some sort. To get behind the counter one must either jump over the pristine marble top, or go through what appeared to be a card key locked door. It seemed like a rather dangerous idea to go back there, given how many people were likely in that enclosed space. He did not want to be in a smaller space than he already was.

Though, in the long run, if they were to get food supplies, they might just need to steal the food itself, rather than going for peoples’ wallets. If he could get back there, he might just be able to snag some things for them to eat, rather than worrying about some civilian’s wallet.

Already, a couple of people were out of their seats. They were looking at the scouts. One man was approaching them. It seemed that without even trying or doing anything in particular, the scouts had drawn attention to themselves. Cursing them quietly, the spy activated his watch. He carefully moved towards the scouts, getting close enough to be heard by them.

“Hey, are you guys…you’re twins aren’t you?” one man asked.

“They kind of look like the scout guy,” a more hesitant man said, holding his distance from the scouts.

“My name isn’t Scout, it’s Brian,” one eloquently spoken scout spoke up, “And this is my brother. We’re just passing through. God it’s hot out today.”

“It’s like so freaking hot! You don’t even know! The car we’ve been driving? It’s unbelievably miserable!” Skeeter added.

“It’s so nice and cool in here,” Brian leaned up against a brick wall that separated the counter waiting area and the booths people were eating at.

“Where you from?” a man who was still seated in a booth asked.

“Time for distraction!” the spy hissed.

“What? But we are!” Brian whispered.

“Take it up ten notches!” the spy replied quietly.

Skeeter was faster on the uptake. This time around, he was ready to make a real distraction. And he started out with turning to Brian and yelling at him about something. The two started arguing, with Skeeter somehow being the more believable of the two.

The spy made his way back to the counter. Already a few more workers were moving up to the front, standing behind the counter to gawk at the spectacle. A few of them gossiped and laughed about it though.

Seeing no other way, the spy took to the end of the counter that was unoccupied by workers. He crouched down, using all of his strength to spring up onto the counter. His thigh landed on the counter and he used his hand to push himself across it. Once he dropped to the other side, he quietly rushed to the back of the work area.

To his relief, he found an unoccupied nook. The timer on his watch was wearing down so he deactivated it to let it charge again. He took a breath, remaining calm while waiting for the mechanism to recharge.

All the while, he felt the paranoia that somebody might come into this nook at any moment. Though, when he stopped focusing on the entrance to the nook, he realized that there was something better here. There were bags in here. They were personal bags, purses and duffel bags. A quick search showed that there were wallets, personal items and other goodies in here. One even contained a lunch.

He decided against being obvious, instead searching each bag for loose change, and digging cash out of wallets. He tucked the currency into his pockets before carefully returning the wallets. These workers needed to be as unsuspecting as possible, until it was far too late.

He checked his watch and found it ready. He activated the invisibility and stepped out of the nook. There was hardly any reason for it though. All of the workers had gone to the front to see what was going on. This left the back area empty of people. This left all of the equipment and food unguarded and completely up for the taking.

To his dismay, every container he opened had only perishable things. He could not be worried about what was perishable though. He just had to grab what he could get. They needed all of the food they could get their hands on for now. So, he stuffed his pockets, he grabbed sacks and he filled his arms with stuff.

Now came the hard part. Getting out of this mess would not be easy. Now he could not easily leap the counter. Now it would be easy for somebody to bump into him while invisible. His movement would also be quite slow.

That was when he spotted the back door. It was a wide set of double doors with a glowing red EMERGENCY sign overhead. Still, it was better than going to the front and running into the workers.

Straining under the weight of the food he had taken, he managed to grab the door. When he pulled it open, a sudden screeching beep sounded. At first, everything in his system froze. The beeping went on, alerting the workers that this door was opening.

He kicked himself mentally and cursed inaudibly. He threw the door open and ran as fast as he could with food in his hands. As long as he was still cloaked, they could not see him, but that would not last for very long.

As soon as the saw the vehicle, he made a mad dash for the back doors. He hurried to throw them open, which caused him to drop some bags of bread. He threw what he could inside, before snatching up the fallen food.

“What’s going on?” the medic called from the driver’s seat.

“An emergency alarm went off inside,” the spy informed him, “I’m going to grab the scouts.”

“Don’t worry,” the medic climbed out of the driver side door, “I’ll go get them. You catch your breath.”

Spy nodded and closed the back doors. He decided to take the driver’s seat, just in case. He was not sure how the people inside reacted to the emergency alarm with the two scouts still inside.


	7. Run, Run, Run

The air smacked the medic in the face. He was nearly struck down with how cold it was. A freezer perhaps? No, it must be a more advanced air conditioning system. It was so nice too, cooling his body and giving him a drowsy feeling. He could lay down on a bench and sleep contently. He was not sure he could even dare to go back outside.

It was easy to find Skeeter and Brian, who had drawn the attention of several people. Others were talking and laughing about something at their own tables.

Medic approached the scouts, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, he heard a gasp. His jaw clicked shut and his eyes turned to the man standing nearby. The man stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen. Next to him a pale-faced, curly-haired woman was pulling a device from her pocket.

Medic recognized the device. It was just like the device Nurse Tanner had used while waiting on him in the restricted area. He thought back to what he had been told about this device. He barely remembered the jumbled explanations he was given about it. He did remember Tanner saying that it was a phone. It was used to call people, but without the inconvenience of being tethered. It was like a radio that could connect to telephones.

The woman’s feaful look told him how she was going to use this device too. He stepped towards her, hoping to take it away. He could not have her calling somebody on him. Everybody stepped back from him though. All eyes were on him now, paying close attention to him like he had said something bizarre.

“Oh hey-!” Skeeter started towards the medic, but Brian stopped him. By the look Brian had for everybody, he was well aware of the tension.

A few more people brandished the wireless phones now. One woman was already whispering into her phone, trying to be discreet. He could not make out what she was saying, but he was sure it was something panicked.

Medic turned to the scouts, “It’s time to go.”

“Wait…they are…that guy?” one of the men standing close to the scouts fumbled.

Skeeter and Brian backed cautiously away from those they were talking to. “It was nice meeting you all,” Skeeter said loudly.

“It’s time we got going,” Brian added.

“They’re clones?!” a horrified screech came from across the dining area.

Medic did not wait any longer. He spun on his heel and dashed out the door. He was only upset that he plunged head first into heat. Still, he sucked in all the air he could muster and sprinted to the vehicle across the street. He flung the back doors open and practically threw himself inside. He clambered over the haphazardly placed food, just in time to get out of the way for two more bodies to join him.

“Go! Drive!” the medic yelled.

The momentum of the vehicle jumping forward threw them all back. Medic relaxed, shifting so that he would not squish food, and tossing a bag of what he assumed to be bagels off to the side. His heart was pounding though, filling his body with lifesaving adrenaline and the feeling that he still needed to physically get away.

“Is everyone alright?” Lucien showed an uncharacteristic amount of care when he called over his shoulder.

“We’re fine,” Skeeter assured him.

“What happened in there?” Lucien asked.

“Everything was going fine,” Brian spoke up, “I don’t know what happened.”

“All of a sudden medic walked in, and they were like…they recognized medic,” Skeeter looked at the medic, meeting his gaze with some strange curiosity.

“He has a more recognizable face than you do,” Lucien replied, in his characteristically calm tone, “Medic, are you alright?”

Medic took a deep breath, “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Lucien replied. Thankfully he was still paying close attention to his job as the driver.

“I don’t know why you freaked out so bad,” Skeeter relented to medic. He shifted to get into a comfortable sitting position, with his back against the side of the vehicle. “It’s not like they had guns or anything. They were all unarmed civilians.”

“They were pretty nice too,” Brian added.

“Yea, they were nice too,” Skeeter nodded in agreement, “They couldn’t really hurt you.” He reached over the back of the driver’s seat and tapped the back of Lucien’s head. The disgruntled spy yelped and tried to smack the hand without distracting himself from the road. “Spy, you should have seen the look on his face. He spun around so fast. You would have thought he saw a pair of heavies being pocketed by medics.”

“I’m sure medic has his reasons,” Lucien countered.

“Phones,” the medic stated.

“What?” Brian gave him a perplexed look.

“They all had telephones,” the medic explained, “And they have already made calls.”

“Made calls? To who?” Skeeter asked.

Brian nudged the other scout, “It’s to whom.”

“I don’t know,” medic shifted to sit up, “But whoever they called is probably going to be coming after us.”

Lucien sighed loudly, “We cannot make stops like that again.”

“How come they didn’t recognize us?” Skeeter asked, sounding almost offended, “there are way more of us than of you guys! No offense.”

“Skeeter has become an obscure name,” Brian explained.

“What do you mean?” Skeeter gave him an aghast look.

“From what Tanner told me, most people don’t even know what we look like. Propaganda is mostly old and nobody pays attention to it anyways,” Brian explained, “Everybody knows Dr. Aurick Radlof.”

Silence fell on the vehicle as the name left Brian’s tongue. Brian just seemed perplexed that nobody was talking. He took a breath before he continued.

“There’s apparently more recent stuff from him. He was in articles and on the news for something. I can’t remember anything specific though,” Brian explained, “I’m sure if it’s popular enough, we’ll run into it anyways.”

“As I said,” the spy interrupted the explanation, “The doctor has a much more recognizable face. He has distinct features, a unique graying pattern of hair, a characteristic –if quite long – haircut, sharp features and…bless you medic, but you walked in there with the most stand out attire possible.”

The medic looked down at his sweat matted button up under a wrinkled vest. His nose crinkled when he realized the smell. He had not showered since they left the facility, and he doubted his hair was as well kempt as he might usually keep it. He was a mess and could absolutely smell it.

“Did you expect me to walk in shirtless?” medic inquired loudly.

There was a pause, a minute but noticeable pause before the spy replied, “No, of course not.”

The drive went on in silence. To their surprise and relief, nobody seemed to be coming after them. Either nobody was coming, or they did not know where to find them. So, the troop just kept going on as they were.

After a while, it became clear that Lucien was not equipped for driving. He was exhausted and began to swerve ever so slightly. Skeeter switched places with him, allowing the spy to crawl into the back to sleep. Brian took the passenger seat to talk to Skeeter and keep him focused.

Medic felt isolated in a strange way. Both of the scouts were chatting as if he was not even there. Lucien had crawled right into the back and laid down. The man was certainly asleep through those soft snores. He was left to listen to the empty chatter and the soft snoring, alone with his thoughts in the back of the vehicle.

_The hollow sound of footsteps filled the empty room. Big and overbearing, the room’s emptiness towered over the medic. The harsh reality of it was even worse._

_The room stretched on and on. All the while, those footsteps were echoing. Medic wondered who would be there when he turned around. He wondered if he should turn around and see. Perhaps they would surprise him, so he should just wait. It could be hi scout creeping up on him to surprise him from behind._

_Then again, it could be a spy. It could very well be the most dangerous of all the mercenaries. If he turned around now, he could fight back and prevent a backstab. Then again, he could let it happen and everything would be over. No more fighting or bullshit. No more trying to struggle through this thing called life. This was not life, as it was simply torture._

_He strongly wanted to free himself from this torture. He supposed he never looked at it. Running away from problems just never seemed like a thing he could manage on his own. Besides that, he could not recount himself being the type of man who fled from his problems._

_With his mind made up, he spun on his heel. He was surprised to come face to face with Randal. All dressed up in a protective white coat and gloves already coated in something he had put his hands into, Randal looked like he was already prepared for work._

_“Can you believe that _our_ work was chosen?” Randal asked, with eager squeakiness in his voice._

_“It has been three weeks already!” Aurick chuckled._

_In spite of himself, he was grinning from ear to ear. They had come so far since their thesis papers and the many submissions that might as well have been requests begging for work. Now they were on payroll with the government. No more low-life work for this scientist!_

_“I know, but I can’t get over it,” Randal insisted giddily._

_“Are you ready to go?” Aurick asked._

_“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Randal said, discarding his gloves so they could leave._

_Aurick proceeded to discard of his own gloves as well. He could not believe where he was now. It seemed like only that morning that he last had his bare hands in a man’s chest cavity. Barely able to coax his employer to dole out money for spare things like gloves, he had to make do with other ways of doing things for so long._

_“I call shotgun!” Randal laughed, darting out the door._

_Aurick chuckled to himself, “You always do.”_

Medic jerked awake when a hand shook his knee. He blinked up at Skeeter, who offered him a lopsided grin. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes of bleariness as he straightened his glasses on his face.

“You should eat something,” Skeeter patted his leg, before slipping off to the side.

Medic glanced around. The windows revealed that it was night outside. With the sun setting, it was time for the scouts to have their sleep, and medic would have to sit up from with the spy for the night.

He sighed at this thought. He missed spending time with scout. He missed _his_ scout. It would be nice to have his ear talked off the way only Skeeter could, while he drove. Brian and Lucien seemed to get along well enough anyways.

“It’s alright, medic,” Skeeter coaxed, “Lucien is already in the driver’s seat. I bet you could get away with dozing off if you’re still tired.”

“Shush!” Lucien shook what looked like bread at the scout, before biting into it.

Brian put something in his hand, “Here, you should eat something. It’s better than nothing.”

Medic held the food he was given, not even looking at it as he climbed out the back doors. He walked around to the passenger seat before he looked at it. It was a burger bun, with lettuce wedged between it. Pulling a piece of bread aside revealed that there were some little slices of pickles and a slice of tomato inside.

“Where’d anybody get the time to slice all of this?” he asked, as he climbed into the front seat.

“The pickles came pre-sliced in the jar,” Skeeter said, popping a piece of pickle into his mouth like it was a snack, “And Lucien sliced the tomatoes for us. We figured we’d let you sleep a little more.”

The medic looked at the spy, catching him in the middle of staring. Lucien quickly pretended to be busy with the disappearing tomato in his hand, cutting himself another slice of it. He stuffed it into his mouth just as Skeeter had with the pickle.

“I like tomatoes,” Lucien spoke through a full mouth.

“I can see that,” the medic settled into his seat before biting into the messy vegetable infused burgerless sandwich. His mouth had been expecting meat somewhere in this thing. He was far too disappointed to take another bite quickly.

“Eat up,” Brian insisted, “This stuff’s gonna go bad real fast back here.”

Lucien finished with his tomato and wiped his blade clean. Once his weapon was concealed, he turned on the vehicle and set about driving. The medic kept him in his peripheral view all the while, pretending not to be paying close attention to what he was doing and how.

“With any luck, maybe we can run into someplace with fewer people,” Brian suggested.

“If we can go somewhere that our faces are less known…we may have a safer chance,” the spy added.

The vehicle did not get far before it stopped and beeped. Everybody in the vehicle went silent. Nobody was sure what to say. The medic was trying to reason out what the spy just did. The spy on the other hand was absolutely bewildered, struggling to get the vehicle to start again.

“Spy? What the hell is going on?” Skeeter demanded.

“The damn car won’t start!” Lucien banged his palm against the steering wheel desperately as he tried to get the vehicle to turn over again.

“Try putting it in park first,” Brian suggested.

“Maybe it just needs a little break,” Skeeter added, “It might be overheated.”

“That’s not likely. These vehicles were built for desert use,” Brian protested, “Besides, you haven’t tried pressing the gas while you turn the key.”

The medic leaned over a little as the scouts gave their suggestions over the back of the seats. Lucien was so panicked in his anxious attempts to get the vehicle going again that he did not seem to be paying attention to the gauges. It was strange to think that the spy might miss such an important detail, given the answer was right there.

“Put it in park first!” Skeeter insisted.

“Press the gass, _then_ start turning the key,” Brian ordered.

The medic put a hand on Lucien’s hand on the gear shift. Lucien’s body jolted and his eyes jumped to meet the medic’s gaze. He had such a look of shock that the medic needed a moment to recover before he could speak.

“We’re out of gas,” he said softly.

“What?” Lucien blinked at him.

The medic pointed to the gauges in front of the steering wheel. The gas gauge was clearly down to empty. It would not start again after having its tank exhausted. Now they were stranded for sure.

“Oh no,” the spy ran his free hand over his face.

That was when medic noticed that the hand he was touching was being treated as if it were trapped. He quickly pulled his hand away, freeing Lucien’s hand. Lucien’s hand did not immediately move though, instead the man almost froze in place.

“Fuck! What are we going to do now?” Skeeter inquired.

“Well, we’re not going to go around saying fuck…or fucking…or whatever,” Brian scoffed at the other scout.

“We’re stranded,” there was a strain in the spy’s voice as he spoke. Clearly he took this situation more seriously than either of the scouts.

Skeeter flung his hands into the air, “Well we’re fine anyways! We got food-”

Lucien interrupted him, “No water left.”

The vehicle fell silent again. Of course the scouts did not understand the deepest concerns of this situation. Lucien had failed to grab them water. Without water, they were not going to last more than another day. What little they had brought with them from the facility was depleted.

“What are we going to do?” Brian asked in a tiny voice.

Lucien let his face fall forward against the steering wheel. His eyes were still open, staring through the wheel to the gauges on the other side. Foolish as he was not to have seen them, now the medic just felt bad. He was not sure why, but it seemed like the spy was suffering deeply from this reality crumbling on him. He had seem so calm before. Like the world was no match for him. But that look on his face spoke great lengths.

“We’re going to be fine,” Aurick forced out his words with as much reserve as he could muster, “We’ll gather up what we can…stock up as much of the food as possible…we’ll walk from here.”

“But…the desert,” Skeeter said uncertainly.

“We’ll perish in the heat, when the sun rises,” Lucien added.

“Good thing it’s night,” the medic opened his door and climbed out, “Besides, do you really want to sit here and wait for _help_ to come along?”


	8. Running

_The distant sound of feet running and voices shouting sent the heart fluttering. Not in an excited way though. Dread set in and panic began to blur the mind. Clutching the gun to his chest, Skeeter ran for his next cover._

_He peered around a corner, carefully searching for anyone around. None of the guards were here, not yet. They were all off elsewhere. He wished he knew where, so he did not have to worry so damn much._

_“Scout!” the barked word startled him. He nearly jumped out of his skin. He would have scolded the older man if not for being breathless. “We have to move!” the Medic told him sternly._

_He nodded and wordlessly bounded out of hiding. The doctor followed right along behind him, but he seemed to be saving that little healing device for later. Skeeter figured it was probably better to save its charge, just in case._

_“This way!” a familiar voice called to them. A big figure stepped around a corner and in this light one could not determine whose face it was. Skeeter recognized that voice though. They quickly joined the Heavy Weapons Guy down a narrow hallway._

_The man was already with the Demolitions Expert. The Scot had a glimmer in his eye and a bright grin across his face. Months of not shaving were showing on his face, giving him the scruffiest look he could possibly have. Add on his eye patch and Skeeter thought he looked like a pirate._

_“Good to see you, lads!” the man’s voice was low as he growled, not wanting to bring attention to their position._

_“Oh good! You’re not drunk,” Skeeter taunted._

_“Let’s get moving,” the Medic insisted, pushing past Skeeter._

_“Aye, if we take the stairs we can reach Soldier,” the Demolitions Expert lifted a grenade launcher and cocked it._

_“I don’t think we have time for that,” Medic insisted, as he tried to move on. He was looking back, waiting for them to join him._

_“Doctor may be right,” the Heavy hummed, “But Soldier is teammate.”_

_There was a pause. Skeeter was not particularly fond of Soldier. However, they _were_ his teammates. He had an obligation to help out his team. If it was him, he would want them to help him out._

_“You don’t leave behind your mates!” the Demo looked a little teary eyed when he said this._

_“No man left behind,” the Heavy nodded in agreement._

_The distant voices caught Skeeter’s ear. He swallowed hard as he realized that they were very close now. They had guns and more bullets. They had tasers and dogs that hunted. These men would kill them as soon as they found them._

_Skeeter cocked his gun and swallowed the dread, “Alright…let’s do this.” His voice was shakier than he intended, but he doubled down with a cocky grin._

_“Scout,” Demo cut him off, “You don’t have to do this if you’re scared.”_

_He met the eye of the man speaking to him. There was something like pity. What a shameful way to look at a man! How dare he! He might as well have spit in Skeeter’s eye. He pulled away, putting distance between them._

_“I ain’t scared! What do I have to be scared of? These bozos don’t stand a chance!” Skeeter explained._

_“They’re getting closer!” the Medic hissed._

_“Scout,” the Heavy pressed, “It is okay.”_

_“I’m not scared!” Skeeter insisted loudly._

_“You heard him,” Medic gestured to the Demo and Heavy, “See? He is not afraid. Now let’s go!”_

_“Doctor!” the Heavy barked._

_“He’s just a boy, lad!” the Demo chimed up before the big Russian man could say anything more._

_“Is not fair for little baby man to fight war,” the Heavy put his big heavy hand on Skeeter’s shoulder._

_He quickly shook off the hand and walked towards the Medic. He was not about to be pushed around, “I’m fine! Okay? Let’s just go.”_

_“See?” the Medic chimed up._

_Distant voices were getting closer. They could hear what was being shouted now. They were getting the dogs. And now? The guards knew they were getting close._

_“Must get Soldier!” the Heavy barked._

_“How? He’s in a maximum facility,” the Medic prompted._

_“We just do it,” the Demo insisted._

_“Let’s go,” Skeeter bounced before bounding off in what he hoped was the right direction._

_“Wait,” the Medic paused, “Where is Spy?”_

_“Dunno,” Skeeter shrugged._

_“Spy is doing his thing,” the Heavy responded._

_“No time for wasting!” the Demo insisted._

_“He was supposed to meet us by now!” the Medic barked, “He promised he would keep up with us!”_

_Demo shared a look with Skeeter. Skeeter shrugged, unsure of how to respond. Nobody was particularly fond of Spy, not even Medic. Still, the guy definitely had promised he would have their backs in this mission._

_The Medic sighed, “We’ll just have to proceed without him.”_

_“Do we go look for him after?” Demo looked to the Heavy, trying to make sense of the situation._

_“We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” Skeeter said, “Let’s move!”_

_His feet were followed by the distant barking of dogs. They were drawing closer and closer as he ran. No matter how fast he ran, he could not escape them. They just kept coming, ever closer and closer. He knew that soon they would be upon them, and he would not be able to escape them._

“Scout?” the voice shook Brian out of slumber.

He paused, looking around slowly. He could feel his heart wake right up, thumping loud and fast against his ribcage. He swallowed, trying to push aside the sensation that he had been dreaming of a past life that was not his own.

“Medic said only fifteen minutes,” Skeeter said, offering him a hand.

Brian offered up a smile and took the hand that was offered. Once on his feet, he quickly dusted his clothes. He was so tired though, his brain did not want to reach out of its fog and make sense of the world.

“Time to get going,” Skeeter informed him. He added a pat on the shoulder, as if to console him about being woken from sleep.

Brian wanted to lay back down and go to sleep. Though, on the other hand he was not fond of the idea that he might go back to those dreams. Those dreams were loaded with memories that he did not want to think about. Still, sleep felt nice, as long as there were no dreams around to haunt him.

“Hey doc! Let’s go!” Skeeter called to the medic.

The medic headed their way, quickly followed by the spy. It was clear that the spy was a little strange. He followed medic like some lost puppy, rather than stalking about with other clones like himself.

“Hope you got a fulfilling rest,” the medic said to Brian, “Because we’re going to be moving the rest of the night.”

Brian sighed and followed along with the group. The medic seemed to have become the de facto leader. Before he thought it was the spy who was the leader. Lucien had the skills to lead others and had quickly taken up the mantle when this whole excursion began. It seemed like he was ready and willing to step down when the medic stepped up in his place.

The medic was a lot different though. He was a confusion man. One second he could be calm and collected. He could have everything apparently figured out. The next moment he was freaking out and everybody was against him.

His calmest must have been in Dr. Jodee’s office. It was strange to think that this was the clone who had been seduced by the doctor. No surprise that she had the hots for medics. Lots of people had the hots for medics. Just like some other people had the hots for spies. People were just too aware that spies were incredibly dangerous creatures. In general, a spy clone was probably using you to get his way, before genuinely helping you.

It was easy to see why people might come to like the medic clones in general. Tanner sure liked them. It was common knowledge that Tanner had been in trouble once before. Confiding in Brian, Tanner revealed that he, like every medic clone, was a homosexual man. Though on the outside his homosexual tendencies were hush hush for the sake of being attacked, indoors he could feel like himself, even when he was with nobody.

Maybe that was the thing about a medic. A medic was not the kind of clone that people suspected. Medic as a class was not the kind of person who could kill a bunch of people. Such men were not tanks like a Heavy. They did not have skills with explosives like Demomen. They were not crazy like Soldiers. They were just there to be healers, and so their reputation as killers did not exist in society.

After what Brian had seen and what Skeeter had told him, Brian was very wary of the medic. He might not be the biggest, meanest or strongest fighter, but he was clearly keen and able to kill. This particular clone’s reputation on the frontlines might as well make him a war criminal. He was not sure if that was a thing, but it might be a thing if Dr. Jodee had ever been made aware of what the man she was dating was really like.

Skeeter elbowed him suddenly. He turned his head to see a concerned look on the other scout’s face. There was a slight tilt to his head, as if he was waiting to listen for information.

“Don’t worry about it,” Brian said, dismissing the unspoken question.

“Don’t worry about what?” the medic interrupted.

“Nothing,” Brian raised his hands, “I’m just tired.”

“Then what are we not worrying about?” Skeeter inquired.

“Nothing!” Brian insisted. He looked at each of the other members in the group. “You guys are just reading too much into being tired.”

“Alright fine,” Skeeter rolled his eyes.

Silence fell on the group again and Brian was left to his thoughts. It was better this way. He was too tired to talk. It was exhausting to trek through the night like this. They had driven so far during the day. At least, _he_ had driven throughout the day. Skeeter had kept him company so he did not doze off or something. Skeeter’s driving was not the best, so Brian wanted to avoid giving him the wheel.

“Do you see that?” the spy interrupted his thoughts.

“See what?” Skeeter spoke up.

“There!” the spy pointed.

Everybody looked and they beheld a small clump of lights in the distance. They quickly changed their path and hurried towards the lights. If there were lights, there were probably people. Where there were people, there was shelter and food.

“We need to be careful,” Brian kept his voice low so he would not attract attention from any unsuspecting civilians, “We don’t want any attention on us.”

“No shit,” Skeeter quipped, before patting Brian’s arm.

“That’s your hint not to speak loudly,” Brian informed his friend.

Skeeter’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Oh alright. Alright. Just cut me some slack here.”

“Let’s stick to the shadows,” the medic suggested.

Lucien gestured for them to come along, “Follow me.”

Well, it was a good thing to have a spy anyways. He seemed to know just where the best shadows were. He seemed like he knew where to walk so he would not be seen. He just seemed to understand where they were less likely to get caught.

They moved with the shadows until they came to a building. Pressed against the back of it, they all waited. Lucien was taking the lead this time. Beside him was the medic, as if prepared to take his rightful place as the leader.

A stray thought meandered into his head. He watched the spy carefully, curious about his behavior. He wondered if he remembered that fateful day. He wondered if Lucien had the memories of the previous spy. Perhaps he could answer the lingering question that all of his teammates had asked. Where was he?

He wanted to ask, but obviously now was not the time. He would not act like Skeeter. Instead, he would act like Brian, and show that he could be more attentive. He was not the spacy youth that every other scout apparently was.

Suddenly, Lucien was running. They were running after him. It did not take long. Rather it was excruciating because they were trying to not overrun the spy. The man was too damn slow, slower than any of them.

They came to a halt at the backside of a brick building. Lucien dropped his load onto the ground and began digging through his pockets. He pulled out some bills and coins, revealing a messy wad of cash he had accrued.

“Is that enough for anything?” Skeeter asked.

“What would you buy with it?” the medic inquired.

Lucien sighed and looked at the brick wall, “Nothing I can think of at the moment. Transport would be impossible to buy with this pocket change. And a taxi will not take four clones.”

“How about water?” Brian suggested.

“Yes,” the spy nodded.

“Good idea,” the medic nodded as well.

It was this head bobbling movement, which took a while to stop, that made Brian realize how harshly the weather was affecting them. Sure, Brian was exhausted, but these two looked like they were about to keel over from thirst.

“Let’s you and me go,” Skeeter turned to Brian, “We’re less likely to be recognized and stuff.”

“No,” Lucien’s voice was a hoarse bark.

“No?” Brian looked at him.

“Let’s not make the same mistake twice,” the spy pulled out a slim gleaming device. It was an old thing, battered as if punched a thousand times. There were dents, scratches and lots of wear on it. When he opened it up, it illuminated his face. He pressed a button and a sudden glow made them close their eyes. When they opened their eyes, the spy was Tanner.

Brian felt the blood leave his face, leaking out of his body and leaving his veins cold. His body was heavy and he could not make himself move for that time. Then suddenly, his body was burning hot with a need to strike something in the face.

“Why didn’t you think about that before?” Skeeter asked.

Lucien shrugged, “I did not think we would need it.”

“You…you…” Brian could barely get it out of his mouth. Lucien looked at him, head slightly tilted in curiosity. “You have a disguise of Tanner?!” he raised his voice. He immediately felt bad for shouting.

Tanner had suggested this to him. Escaping had been an idea given to him by Tanner. He had been told by Tanner where to go and who to meet. The blood in his body cooled as he realized that Tanner probably gave this disguise to the spy.

Lucien eyed him for a long few moments. He paused, looking to the medic, as if ignoring both Brian and Skeeter. “I’ll be back.” With that, he stepped around the building and made his way to the front of the store.


	9. A Dehydrated Trek in the Night

The silence was deafening. It lasted for far too long. Standing there was impossible with the silence just hanging in the air. Skeeter chose to speak up for himself.

“Uh…you seemed pretty mad,” he turned to Brian, “You alright?”

“Yea, I am fine,” Brian nodded, “I didn’t mean to startle anyone. I realize that Tanner gave him that disguise though. It was in his plan all along.”

Suddenly, the medic burst into laughter. Of all the times to be laugh…of all this time spent silently in the heat, driving in silence, and wishing that something human would happen…the medic starts laughing now. He was not sure what to call this situation.

“Um…doc?” he waved a hand in the air, hoping to catch the older clone’s attention.

The medic sighed, turning to Brian, “You think this was Tanner’s plan? You think his idea was this big escape?” This time the medic doubled over, more for the effect of looking like he was laughing harder. “You would actually believe that a nurse at that facility would have handed you the keys to freedom? Is that right?”

“Um…” Brian visibly winced.

“Nurse Tanner wouldn’t have done any such thing,” the medic explained. That look in his eyes mixed with his smile gave him a deranged sort of look. “Nobody in that forsaken place would have handed you any way to get out but to the frontlines,” the medic’s voice dropped to a threatening growl.

Skeeter noticed how Brian recoiled from that. He took a step towards medic, putting himself between the two. He was not about to let medic push around his new friend.

“Hey medic! Cool it!” he barked.

“What?” the medic threw up his hands, “It’s true though.”

“No!” Brian protested. When Skeeter looked at him, he noticed that he was teary eyed. He kind of wanted to smack him for looking so vulnerable in front of a clone who often took advantage of vulnerabilities. “Tanner was the one who told me! Tanner was the one who told me to meet the spy! It was his idea!”

The medic clicked his tongue, “That wasn’t Tanner.”

Silence fell. All Skeeter could hear were desert bugs. It was the same old sound he would hear when he went outside the base for a stroll. It was that same nature music that he was accustomed to. Only now, it was out in society, away from mercenaries and the base.

Finally, Brian broke the silence, “What do you mean that it wasn’t Tanner?”

“I mean that it was not Tanner who told you those things,” the medic retorted.

“Then who are you insinuating it was?” Brian demanded. His voice was rising in tone again. “Who else could it be?” Brian stomped his foot.

The medic rolled his eyes at the question, “It was the spy.”

Brian’s face was turning a bit red, “What? No! It couldn’t have been! I worked with Tanner all the time. Nobody knew Tanner better than I did. I was with him almost twenty-four seven! There is no way the spy could have fooled everybody like that with another Tanner walking around! And the cameras! The cameras would have caught two Tanners!”

“He’s dead,” the medic’s voice was deep and sorrowless, a mere statement of something obvious.

That made a lot of sense to Skeeter. The spy did enter the facility with his own tools. He would have had what he needed to do the deed. It would have been more convenient to off the nurse and replace him anyways.

“What? Spy?” Brian asked.

“No, Nurse Tanner,” the medic stated. There were a few moments of silence, during which Brian’s face turned white. “I realized it when spy decloaked in front of me.”

“NO!” Brian barked loudly, “That’s impossible! I was with him all the time!”

“You cannot be with somebody a hundred percent of the time,” the medic crossed his arms indignantly.

“You don’t know anything!” Brian shook a finger at the medic.

“Yea? Well, I know that Nurse Tanner is dead,” the medic said firmly.

“No, he’s not!” Brian protested again. Clearly he did not understand how to let something go.

“The spy killed him, disposed of his body and replaced him. He did all of this without you knowing,” the medic added, “Honestly, you think you can be around him all the time? I did not see you with him when I was with him.”

Brian’s face grew redder, “I was right there with you! Anytime he was with you, I was with you! He couldn’t have been with you when I wasn’t!” His voice was raising louder and louder. Skeeter was genuinely frightened that somebody might hear him and come looking.

“You weren’t there in the staff room,” the medic tapped a finger to his chin, “Not that I can remember. We were all alone in there. It seems to me that just as he got alone with me, he could have easily been gotten alone by a spy. The scarf spy. The man we are currently travelling with is not only ruthless, but the most experienced killer of all clones.”

Skeeter turned from medic back to Brian. Brian was staring at the medic with wide eyes. His face was pale. His lips hung slightly open, as if to say something. He could not seem to move or speak anymore.

“Doc,” Skeeter broke the silence. Medic was just taking a breath, about to say something more, when his attention turned to Skeeter. “Let’s just…calm down. Alright?” he put a gentle hand on Brian’s arm and tugged lightly.

“I’m sorry,” Brian’s voice was weak and barely audible.

“What?” the medic gave him an incredulous look.

“I said I’m sorry,” Brian rose his voice a little, but not by much.

Still, the medic had an incredulous look on his face. He did not understand what Brian was apologizing for. Skeeter did not know what he was apologizing for either. He was more worried about getting them to calm down.

“Come on, Brian,” he urged the other man. Brian finally looked at him and blinked. “Come on,” he tugged on his arm gently.

Finally, Brian caved in. He turned away from the medic and followed Skeeter’s lead. They did not go very far. They just went into the shadowy areas, where they were less likely to be seen. Skeeter was careful to make it out of earshot for medic.

“You okay?” Skeeter turned to his friend.

“I…no I’m not,” Brian frowned, “I might have been steered into doing this…by a spy. A clever spy…a good spy…he would have had to have studied Tanner so much to understand the nuances!”

“Yup,” Skeeter nodded, “That sounds like spy alright.”

“Lucien wouldn’t kill Tanner, would he?” Brian’s voice was full of both hope and despair.

“Dude, he would kill me if it spared him annoyance,” Skeeter shrugged, “That guy is like…the worst. We used to pick on him all the time, but that was because there were a lot of scouts. You could get away with picking on spy, as long as you were fast and blended in.”

“He wouldn’t really kill a scout,” Brian shook his head.

“Uh…yea he would,” Skeeter snorted a laugh, “He has in the past. Medic has too. It’s not like they wouldn’t do it again, just because they aren’t at the frontlines.”

“I mean…I mean like an ally,” Brian insisted.

“Yup,” Skeeter nodded, “Medic almost killed me.”

“What?!” Brian raised his voice, “And you trust him?”

“I mean, not with my life,” Skeeter shrugged.

Brian ran his hands over his face, “I can’t believe it.”

“You can’t believe that medic and spy would kill people? You do remember that we’re mercenaries right? I mean, you do have the original Skeeter’s memories, right?” Skeeter asked.

“Not that! I can’t believe…” Brian let out a sigh, his shoulders dropping, “I can’t believe I was fooled by a spy. I was sent on this…mess by a freaking spy! I thought it was Tanner! I thought…” Brian shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I thought. I should have known better. Tanner always warned me that the society beyond wasn’t welcoming to clones.”

“Huh…well…happens to the best of us,” Skeeter shrugged.

There was a long silence. Skeeter shifted from foot to foot as he waited. All the while, he could see the medic’s figure in the shadow of the building, where he waited for them.

“So what was up with that apologizing? And stuff?” he turned his attention back to Brian.

“About the…medic was taken alone to the staff room,” Brian stammered.

“What about it?” Skeeter scrunched his brow as he thought about what medic had said. He did not seem to be bothered that he had been in the staff room with some guy named Tanner.

“I…he…Tanner had a history, you know?” Brian looked to Skeeter for help to explain the thing he was thinking of.

Skeeter shook his head, “No, I don’t know.”

Brian frowned, “He had been given a warning for it. And once I knew about it, I was pretty vigilant.”

Skeeter paused, tilting his head slightly, “Uh…I’m pretty sure that wasn’t your job.”

“I know that!” Brian barked, “But Tanner was my friend! He gave me a second chance! He gave me hope that I could have a different future! Even better than Dr. Jodee! I mean he was better to me than Dr. Jodee.” Brian’s face was quite red as he explained this.

“Okay…you lost me,” Skeeter shook his head, “What did you apologize for?”

Brian’s jaw clicked shut. For a few moments, it seemed to be locked. When he finally opened his mouth, he took a deep breath, “Tanner would have…if he got a medic alone…he would have done some things. I’m not proud to say that…he’s my friend…when he did some things that are pretty questionable.”

“Questionable? Hey genius, you’re talking to a guy who killed guys on the daily,” Skeeter gestured to himself with a thumb.

“Well like, you know how medics are typically gay right? Like, the original guy…he was into men…and it was like this big…problematic thing? Well, I guess Tanner is into guys and he had a past of having relationships with them,” Brian explained.

Skeeter bristled, “What? You got a problem with guys who like guys?” By the end of the line escaping his lips, he realized why he was saying it. Not too long ago, he had been practically on the arm of a sniper, ready to try having…something. He was not sure what he wanted, but he knew he liked the guy well enough. Well, he liked him up until he became controlling and had to be killed off by the spy. There was just no way around that one bit.

“No!” Brian threw his hands up defensively, “I think…they’re alright in my book. It’s just…Tanner was a nurse, you know? And the medics were like…well the guards considered it to be unethical because of the position of power.”

“You lost me again,” Skeeter interrupted.

Brian sighed, “When Tanner decided to have a relationship with the medics, he didn’t consider that they were influenced by him having the power that he had over them. There’s a lot of insinuations and assumptions…honestly, I don’t think Tanner meant anything bad by it. But if he did it again, he would be annexed and blacklisted for work.”

“So all of this stuff…” Skeeter paused to take a breath, “And you had to apologize because…?”

“Because…when medic was alone with Tanner, he probably-” Brian struggled to get it out, cutting himself off, “He definitely- I mean, something happened! He did something, I’m sure.”

Skeeter paused for a moment. He looked over where the medic was waiting for them. He did not even seem bothered by them being gone. He was just waiting for water to arrive with Lucien.

Brian made a noise of disgust, “I don’t want to imagine what he did…just…”

Skeeter’s head spun to look at Brian, “Are you saying he raped medic?”

Brian threw his hands up, “I’m not saying he was…but like…it’s not out of the question? Tanner did some questionable things in the past. He was kind of on watch by the guards for his obsession with medics. It would not have been impossible for him to use his position to _persuade_ medic to do some…stuff.”

Skeeter caught the signs of somebody coming. He bolted for the wall, pushing up against it like medic. Brian followed slowly, completely unaware of what they were doing.

Relief followed as Lucien came around the corner in disguise. He was carrying a small plastic bag full of bottles of liquid. At first, he was relieved and wanted to immediately grab for the water. Then he realized that this was a very tiny amount of water. They would need much more to survive.

“It seems that Nurse Tanner is a recognized face in this area,” the spy’s voice was that of Tanner’s, his cheeks round and soft. It was an odd and unfamiliar look.

“Uh…what happened?” Skeeter asked.

“Not enough cash?” Brian added.

“Tanner!” a voice called from the distant parking lot.

The spy’s lips thinned, “We have been offered a ride.”

“Oh,” medic looked a bit surprised, “And you think that’s a good idea? Or did you plan on threatening the man to drive you?”

“Don’t assume it’s a man,” the spy insisted, “And I think we can make this work.”

He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pristine disguise kit. At first, he thought it was the one spy was using to disguise himself. Then he realized that this one looked newer and fresher. It was absent of dents, scratches and scrapes. He must have picked it up when they raided the armory.

The disguise kit went into medic’s hands. Then the spy pressed some buttons on the disguise kit. After a few moments, the disguise kit caused a bit of a misty fog before the disguise was donned.

“Ramone too?!” Brian spat.

“Ramone?” the medic’s voice had shifted from his German accent to a Latin accent. It was beautiful yet strange to hear.

“You killed Tanner and then you killed Ramone too?! Who else did you kill? Anybody I should be aware of? And you thought I wouldn’t know it was you who sent me into this mess either?” suddenly Brian was raving mad, shaking a finger in the spy’s face.

“I would be more careful, if I were you,” the spy narrowed his eyes at Brian, “You might lose a finger.”

“I’m not scared of you!” Brian barked, “You’ll pay someday! You hear me? You’ll pay for what you did!”

Before anybody else could react, Lucien threw Brian against the brick wall. He had him by the throat with one hand, pinned against the wall. Brian was struggling with shock for a good long while. Nobody had ever manhandled him like this. He had never seen or experienced the frontlines, not like Skeeter had.

“You really should,” the spy’s growl seemed less menacing without his French accent.

“Tanner!” a voice called again, “Tanner! Come on, let’s go!”

“Are we going then?” the medic asked, “Somebody is calling.”

“S- Lucien, let him go. Let’s go,” Skeeter insisted.

Lucien released the scout’s throat. Brian gasped and grabbed his neck. He looked so mortified at what just happened. It was no doubt his first experience with any kind of real violence, outside of the memories. Considering he was the little nurse scout back at the facility, he was probably babied as well.

“Brian, come on,” Skeeter gestured for the other to follow as they started towards the parking lot.

The parking lot was dark and eerie. There were lights here, buzzing and humming like they were not properly installed. They seemed like they might turn off at any moment, or they might give them away. Skeeter thought he might prefer the total dark instead.

“Well hello there! Finally! Tanner!” a woman in the driver’s seat of a car was waving to them.

“We’re coming!” the spy’s voice was light and airy as he waved to the woman.

“Let’s get going! You all doing alright?” the woman asked as they approached the vehicle.

“Yes,” the spy nodded, “We’re really tired though.”

“Not great for talking now,” Skeeter added.

“Well, that’s fine,” she insisted, “You lot can lay in the back and I’ll drive you to the guest house. I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to see you, Tanner!”

“Right,” the spy climbed into the back of the vehicle. One by one, the rest of them followed, until they could close the back of the vehicle.

“I just can’t wait to see the looks on their faces!” the woman laughed heartily.

“Can’t wait to see them,” the spy was good at sounding genuine.


	10. Memory of the Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Originals were tested before they joined a cause.

_The big man’s grin split his face. He was almost too gleeful with himself. One hand held the Pyro by the neck. The other wielded a knife._

_“Put it down,” a woman barked._

_Skeeter looked up, wincing against the pain in his eye. That wallop was already swelling on his face. The woman approaching was a mercenary, a dangerous looking criminal in his eyes. She had this crazy look, like she enjoyed spilling blood. She wanted to see more of it. In spite of this, she was very calm right now._

_“The boss said to keep them all alive for the time being,” the woman said firmly._

_The big man’s grin left his face. He frowned at the limp Pyro before releasing him. Poor guy had taken a harsh and mighty beating so far. Under his attire, it was hard to see how he was faring. Skeeter kind of wanted to help him out, but he needed to help himself first._

_“The hell are you working for?” Skeeter demanded._

_The woman laughed, “This one’s really dumb.” She gestured with a thumb at Skeeter as she spoke to her teammate._

_The big man chuckled and smirked at Skeeter. He was not ready for another bashing, so he cringed. The big man liked seeing him cower in fear. It was not like he could fight back or anything. His hands were literally tied._

_“Put that one down,” the woman pointed to the Pyro, “We should spank this disrespectful child!” She pointed to Skeeter with that crazy smile on her face._

_Suddenly, the door opened. Skeeter did not look, but both captors raised their heads to look. The shoes clicking on the floor sounded like the kind of shoes you danced in, not like boots you wear to battle._

_“That won’t be necessary,” the newcomer had a different voice._

_When he came into Skeeter’s peripheral view, he was surprised. He was not sure what he had been expecting, but it was not this. He was a tall and slender man. He looked to be in good health too, the kind of man who takes care of himself. His age showed only through the gray in his hair and mustache._

_“We were just sedating them with unkindness, boss,” the big man said._

_“That’ll be enough,” the man raised a hand to the other captors. The two of them took something of a step back, shoulders slumping in defeat. Their boss was taking away their fun before they could really get started. “Have you sent for anybody? Or called anybody yet?” the boss asked._

_“No, sir,” the big man answered._

_“We waited for your orders, sir,” the woman added._

_“Good,” the boss nodded, “I appreciate your cooperation.”_

_“What are you planning?” the big man asked, with a wary crook of his eyebrow._

_“Just a little interview of my own,” the boss answered, “Nothing to get worked up about.”_

_The boss pulled up a metal chair. It scraped loudly across the ground as he brought it to rest backwards in front of Skeeter. He carefully spread is legs over it, sitting down backwards to use the backrest for his arms. He looked absolutely relaxed, leaning against the chair as he peered at Skeeter._

_“I won’t talk,” Skeeter did his best to show some form of defiance._

_If there was one thing his ma’s neighborhood had taught him, it was to not be a snitch. You do not snitch. You do not even think about snitching. Snitching was worse than death._

_Besides, even if they offered him his life, he knew it would not be true. These were deadly mercenaries hired by this boss. They were none too friendly. And if he was unfazed by their none-too-friendly behavior, then he was a none-too-friendly person himself._

_“How are you?” the boss asked simply, as if making quaint conversation._

_“How the fuck do you think I am?” Skeeter raised his voice and spat on the ground. His spittle had traces of blood from the little bit of bleeding in his mouth._

_The big man stepped forward, showing his threatening presence. Skeeter could have sworn he heard a deep bear-like growl from the man. It could very well have been his imagination though._

_“Easy,” the boss stopped his inferior with a raised hand, “Just leave him be for now.”_

_“The good cop bad cop routine don’t work on me, pal!” Skeeter grinned, not even caring if there was blood in his teeth._

_“That’s not what good cop bad cop is,” the man chuckled in amusement, “I take it you were sent here to steal the intelligence?”_

_“Not telling you nothing!” Skeeter ended up spitting more than he meant to._

_“Mmhm,” the man nodded, as if he was given a straight answer, “And do you know what’s in it?”_

_“I don’t need to know nothing, cause there’s nothing I’m gonna tell you,” he tried to put on a mocking tone._

_“Let me darken his other eye and he’ll start talking,” the big man growled, rolling up one sleeve._

_“Patience,” the boss said, raising his hand again._

_The woman turned to console the big man. Gently calming him with quiet soothing words. They could very well have been romantic partners for all the affection she poured out._

_“You almost got away with it,” the boss went on, “It’s sad that you’re here now.”_

_“Yea, I’m sure you’ll turn up to my funeral,” Skeeter mocked bitterly._

_“Who said anything about a funeral? I’m not threatening you, am I? Look, I only want some answers. That’s all,” the man had his hands up defensively._

_Skeeter glanced over at the unconscious Pyro to remind himself of the damage this man’s employees had already done. He remembered how vicious they were and how volatile they would be. If given the chance, they would give Skeeter a slow and painful death._

_“If it’s security you want, I would be more than happy to agree to a bargain for your safe release,” the man offered._

_Skeeter barked a laugh. He might have been stupid enough to buy this offer, if not for his teammates. If there was one thing they had taught him, it was that different weapons put together make a super weapon. Oh, and also never to accept bargains, because you should never trust a man who tries to bargain with your life. It is always a flat out lie._

_“As if I’m falling for that!” Skeeter mocked._

_“Falling for…? Well…that’s funny, since you fell for this mission,” the boss explained._

_His employees chuckled. The dark rumble from those two made Skeeter’s skin crawl. There was electricity going up his spine and he needed to scratch that itch._

_“You came all this way for…nothing,” the boss paused, turning to the man, “Would you mind grabbing me the intelligence?”_

_No way, Skeeter thought. There was no way this man was actually going to show the real intelligence to a captive. That would be insane. Though, if they had the intelligence now, that meant that his teammates had had to ditch it or they had been caught. That thought made his blood run cold._

_“It would be easier just to bring him there,” the big man answered._

_“Very well,” the boss stood up from his chair, “Bring both of them.”_

_The big man hefted Pyro over his shoulder. While normally, Skeeter might be thrilled to be lifted by a woman, he was not fond of her crazy eyes. In fact, he would much rather be lifted by the big man instead. He was a little less creepy._

_He laid draped over her shoulder as they walked through hallways. The metal building was made of all the same hallways. They were so similar, with no change or alteration from one point to another. It would be easy to get lost in such a place._

_“Here we are,” the boss announced, before opening a door._

_They stepped inside, and Skeeter found himself thrown to the floor. He struggled to get his bearings. Here, there was the Heavy Weapons Guy, who looked like he was sedated, the Demoman passed out, the Soldier tied to a chair, the Medic kneeling on the floor, one man standing in a scientist’s coat and a set of three armed guards. These were not mercenaries either. These were the types of guys who worked government jobs to guard top security facilities. Skeeter was pretty sure they were considered a militia force._

_“Scout, if you said anything, I swear to God,” Medic growled._

_“Relax! I said nothing!” Skeeter protested._

_That was when he caught sight of the briefcase. It was the same one he had handed off to them when he went back for their lost comrade. Medic had had the forethought to latch it to his arm with handcuffs, keeping it from falling out of his grasp._

_Skeeter felt a little pride for his teammate. That was a smart move. It had been a plan to keep from ever losing the intelligence. After all, second to Skeeter, Medic was the fastest on the team and was the most protected by his teammates. That was such a good plan!_

_“You would work for them?” the Medic growled at the man in the lab coat._

_The scientist winced, sparing a brief glance at the guards, “It’s not as if there is much choice.”_

_“There is plenty of choice!” Medic’s signature loud voice raised over the dim hum in the room._

_“I don’t have a choice,” the man in the lab coat insisted in a whimpering voice._

_“You do have a choice! You chose wrong!” Medic roared._

_The man in the lab coat flinched, looking at Medic with teary eyes. Skeeter could not believe what he was seeing. This guy was about to start crying to some mercenaries._

_Well, at least it made sense for the doc to know him. They were both scientists, after all. Maybe the Medic worked with him at some time in his life._

_“You chose _their_ side,” Medic growled with disdain._

_Skeeter could have sworn he saw the tears actually forming in the man’s eyes. Adding his softer features made him out to be a soft, doughy, useless man. It was laughable._

_“What’s so funny?” the boss turned to Skeeter._

_“Standing there crying like some baby!” Skeeter laughed._

_“Little man wants to die?” the big captor cracked his knuckles._

_“At least I’ll go down with pride! I’ll go down knowing it was worth it!” Skeeter said, adrenaline pounding through his head._

_He really wished he knew how to break out of handcuffs. Maybe there was some sort of trick that the Spy used. Surely the guy could have taught him. If he could get out of these, his body would do the rest in helping him fight off this entire room full of fighters._

_“Was it though?” the boss asked, with a mischievous grin under his gray mustache._

_“It will be! With you not getting any information or anything!” Skeeter puffed up his chest in triumph._

_“Don’t celebrate so soon,” the boss approached the Medic and grabbed the intelligence briefcase. Medic growled but did not resist as the man unlocked the thing._

_Skeeter’s heart started beating fast. Now he wanted to know what was in there. Now he _had_ to know what was in there. He had to bear witness to whatever was so important for their employer to send them for._

_He tried his best to lean in and look, but the man was pausing with the briefcase closed. The boss looked at each of them, with a coy grin on his face. “Are you ready to see?” he asked._

_Skeeter nodded, excited to finally find out. At least before his death he would know what he died for._

_He pulled the briefcase open and suddenly a burst of confetti jumped out. Being the closest, Medic took the brunt of the blast, with confetti, ribbon and string landing in his perfectly quaffed hair._

_“Congratulations!” the boss laughed._

_“The fuck is this?!” the Soldier yelled, struggling against his bonds in the chair._

_“You all failed!” the boss laughed again, “Well, you did pass the tests though. There’s that.”_

_“What? Test? What test? I’m not good with tests,” Skeeter protested._

_The boss walked over to a small side door and opened it. In stepped none other than their employer. The man was all smiles, beaming like he had won the lottery. He must have been having a great day to come out with that stupid smile on his face._

_“You?!” the Medic roared._

_“You…you betrayed us,” the Heavy Weapons Guy growled groggily._

_“No, no,” their employer insisted, “This was the plan all along.”_

_“Premeditated betrayal!” Skeeter shouted._

_“Stop, let me explain,” their employer insisted with raised hands._

_“Never! I will never stop!” Skeeter declared loudly._

_There was a pause before their employer asked, “Are you not done?”_

_“I will never not be done!” Skeeter raised his voice again._

_“Oh boy,” the Medic rolled his eyes._

_“This was all just a test,” their employer explained, with his hands still raised, “And you passed.”_

_“You mean to tell us this was all a test?” the Medic growled, glaring daggers at the man in the lab coat._

_“Yes!” the boss man said cheerfully, “And it is a testament to your combined skills. Your fellow teammates are sedated due to the bullets being tranquilizer darts.”_

_“And you think that changes our minds about this?” the Soldier demanded._

_“I would think that men such as yourself would be more interested in a venture greater than a one-time mission,” their employer was grinning from ear to ear, “You are going to make history!”_

_“Not interested in making history, sister!” the Soldier spat on the floor._

_“You’ll be making a lot of money while you’re at it,” their employer said, rubbing his fingers together._

_“Forget it!” Medic barked._

_“What?” both their employer and the boss man were stumped._

_“I refuse to work in such conditions!” he glared at the man in the lab coat again, “Don’t think I won’t despise you for this!”_

_“Don’t be unreasonable,” the boss insisted, “We’re offering you a once in a lifetime get rich job! Besides that, you should be thankful we’ve swept your little mischief under the rug. It would be a shame to lose our best over a little…scandal like this.”_

_Suddenly, the Medic’s face turned red. He struggled to his feet and started towards the men. The guards were on him in a blink of the eye. They were forcing him down while he struggled._

_“How dare you!” the Medic screamed._

_The man in the lab coat flinched. He turned his face away. There was a look of utter shame about him._

_“What did you tell them?! What did you tell?!” Medic roared angrily._

_“I told them nothing!” tears left the scientist’s eyes._

_“Liar! What did you tell them?!” Medic demanded._

_“I didn’t tell them anything! They already knew!” the man in the lab coat raised his voice._

_The Medic fell silent. He stared at the other man for a long time. The two of them were silent, just staring at each other._

_“Well? How about it, Scout?” their employer turned to him, “How’d you like to be a very rich man?”_

_“This…you weren’t…I…” he could not make up his mind on what to say to this. He was sure if he made any choice, he was going to regret it no matter what. There would always be doubt in his choices. Well, unless he chose death, because then he would be dead._

_“I was told you are fast and quick with a weapon,” the boss man intervened, “It was added that your weakness is your loyalty. And it’s true, you are loyal to a fault. It’s your greatest weakness.”_

_“I thought it was his intelligence,” Medic growled._

_The boss continued without missing a beat, “I like that about you. I think you would make a great addition to the team. We need more men like you on the battlefront. What do you say?”_

_Skeeter was confused. He looked over at his teammates, trying to gauge what to do. Medic was clearly fuming. Most of them had sustained injuries. And all of this was to recover intelligence from a man, who was waiting there for them, who had set all of this up to test them. It seemed like such a bizarre situation that he needed a few moments to process it._

_“This is a great opportunity,” the boss went on, “What do you say?”_

_“Um…” Skeeter could not gauge the others’ reactions. They were either too out of it, or they were just seething with rage. “I…” he could not take the pressure. It was too much for him to handle._


	11. The Guest House

With Brian and Skeeter fast asleep, the drive was very quiet. From time to time, the woman in the driver’s seat would talk to the spy. Mostly, Lucien played shy and hesitant.

There were quite a few questions he could not answer. Thankfully, the man’s skill was a boon to their predicament. The woman bought the act of an uncertain young man coming home for not-sharable reasons.

When the vehicle stopped, they had to wake the scouts. That was when Lucien’s nerves really began to show. He was looking around, trying to get his bearings. He was supposed to be playing Tanner, who would know this place already.

“I’m sure you know your way to the guest house,” the woman said dismissively.

“Actually,” Lucien stopped her from leaving, “I’m a bit tired and I feel disoriented. Would you mind helping us to the door?”

The woman nodded and gestured for them to follow her. Medic could not help but be a little enamored by the grand house they walked around. It looked like something one would see in an old Hungarian city. It had been so long since he saw anything like it. Around it were small stone sculptures of maidens with wings. Around the back, closer to the guest house was where the angels’ purpose became clear, with the tallest statue being of the Catholic icon of Mary.

“Man,” Skeeter spoke up, “There’s like…a lot of these!” He gestured to the statues adorned with wings.

Brian shrugged, “They’re pretty neat, I guess.”

“Ahem,” the woman cleared her throat at the door. She pulled a key out of one of the hanging pots and unlocked the door. “I hope I don’t have to remind you about the level of discretion you should keep, _Tanner_.”

Medic had to swallow as his face grew hot. There was something accusatory in her tone. She had seemed rather dismissive before, but now she was completely stern.

“Well? Come on then, inside,” she beckoned.

Lucien took the lead. Medic followed quickly, with the scouts at his heel. The guest house was rather fancy, brightly lit and decorated from ceiling to floor.

The woman approached Lucien and dropped her tone to a low volume, “Look, Tanner. I want to help and support you. You’re a good kid. I know you’re trying. Just don’t get on your father’s bad side. Alright? And for the love of peace, do not let anybody know you brought scouts and a medic of all people here!”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” Lucien assured her in a pleasant tone.

She looked around at all of them, “You all get a good night’s sleep, you hear? And don’t cause any trouble. You’re bound to end up in a bad way if you draw attention from the neighbors.”

She took one last survey of them before she turned to leave. They moved out of her way, watching her head to her car. The medic was all too aware that this woman could tell somebody where they were. It sounded like she was on their side, but she could very well change her mind about that.

He turned to the scouts, “We need to create a shift schedule.”

“A shift schedule?!” Skeeter exclaimed.

“For what?” Brian echoed the other scout’s thoughts.

“We need to be on alert, in case we are found out,” the medic explained.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Skeeter yawned.

“Somebody has to be,” medic protested.

“Tanner’s folks aren’t the type to snoop into business,” Brian insisted.

“Do you know Tanner’s folks personally?” Lucien intervened.

“Well, no…but-” Brian was cut off when Lucien raised a hand to him.

“It would be in our best interest to be wary of everyone here,” the medic insisted, “We don’t know what they would really do if we were found out.”

Skeeter laughed, “If it’s anything like the restaurant, then they will act like we are shooting at them.”

“So like the doctor said,” Lucien nodded to the medic in acknowledgment, “We need a schedule.”

The medic took the first shift and found it uneventful. He was grateful when Lucien took the next shift, allowing him to go to sleep. When he woke, the sun was shining through the window and there was a rap of knuckles on the door.

Time froze. The medic was aware of the danger he would be in if he was found out. He leaped from the bed and flung himself at the closet. It was the best place he could think of on short notice. The others he could hear scuffling about and he only hoped the scouts did not give away his position.

The sound of Tanner’s voice came from the door, “Hello?”

“Tanner, you didn’t even call,” an older man said.

“Yes, well I…I was a bit dazed from travel,” Lucien replied.

“Just like you,” the old man growled, “Always inconsiderate.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucien replied quickly.

“No, don’t be,” there was something aggressive about the way the man dismissed the apology, “Your mother is making waffles. Get dressed and come have breakfast.”

Lucien started nervously, “Oh, I have-”

“I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO PAY FOR RENT, I’M TELLING YOU TO DO YOUR MOTHER A DAMN COURTESY WHEN YOU VISIT HOME!” the man shouted with a burning rage.

There was silence. The medic was not sure what was happening. Lucien probably did not know Tanner well enough to know how to respond. As little experience as he had, it might have been a better idea to have Brian play the part.

“Are you done?” Lucien’s version of Tanner’s voice turned rather coy.

There were a few moments of silence, before the other man spoke up, “Don’t talk to me like that!”

“I simply want to know if your tantrum is over with,” Lucien informed the man, “I’ve dealt with enough violent tempers to last me a lifetime. I am not affected by your childish screaming.”

The medic wondered how the man was responding. Something like that could get one chewed out, but this man sounded speechless. Perhaps Lucien was not bad at playing the part of Tanner after all.

“I want you out of here by noon,” the other man growled.

Medic waited, listening for the door to close again. He slowly opened the closet door to peek out. The spy’s disguise dropped and he was fidgeting with the dress coat he was wearing.

“Oh man! That was close!” Skeeter came crawling out from under the bed.

“I knew Tanner wasn’t close to his father, but…” Brian’s voice teetered off.

“People don’t share their deepest traumas with others,” the spy replied, “And I think he was shocked his son stood up to him for the first time.”

“But Tanner does that all the time,” Brian insisted, “How do you know it’s the first.”

“His eyes,” Lucien answered simply.

The rest of the morning was spent hastily putting together disguises. The room was equipped with clothes from the previous inhabitant. Tanner was not exactly the right size, but he could stand to wear a misshapen shirt. He would just wear his own pants with them. He could not tolerate having pants that stopped short of his ankles due to being the wrong size.

Both of the scouts had the same body type. Both of them were the right height for Tanner’s clothing, but they were lankier and boyish. Neither of them had a soft roundness that Tanner had, and so they barley kept the clothes from falling off. They donned different ball caps they dug out of the closet.

“Yours is the most identifiable face,” the spy caught his attention. He was waving a box through the air.

“What’s that?” Skeeter asked.

“Oh I’ve seen those,” Brian pointed, “Tanner used to dye his hair sometimes.”

“Doctor,” Lucien held it up, “We should dye your hair.”

The medic frowned as he took the box. On the front was a young model with slicked back golden hair. It was far from Tanner’s color. It was far from his own color. He did not know how it would look on black hair.

“I’m not sure,” the medic replied.

“Don’t be worrying about sure or not,” Lucien insisted, “We need to disguise your appearance. Come. I will help you.”

Without question, Lucien took his hand and drew him to the bathroom. He sat him down on the lidded toilet and began spilling the contents of the box onto the counter by the sink. Sifting through the instructions, it took the man a few minutes to decide what to do next.

While Lucien fiddled with his hair, combing through it and applying some foul smelling color, the medic held still and remained quiet. Now was not the time to be pretentious or have a freak out. Now was not the time to point out what Lucien was or that he did not like him. Despite knowing that, every part of his body was tensed with the terrifying notion that a dangerous spy was basically toying with his hair.

“You seem nervous,” the spy finally commented.

There was silence. The medic did not know how to respond. Lucien was just trying to help, but he could not think of a way to calm his instincts. These instincts kept him alive for this long and he had to fight with them. He did not feel obligated to explain that feeling to another mercenary.

“Unaccustomed to somebody else working with your hair?” Lucien asked, “Don’t worry. I will do my best to salvage this look.”

There was quiet again. Medic could practically feel his heart beating in his throat. Lucien did not even have anything sharp, but it felt as though the man was holding a knife. It was as if he held a blade to the soft flesh of the medic’s throat.

“This needs to set,” Lucien stated, before turning to wash his hands.

Medic looked up at him to find that he was not looking at what he was doing. He was looking down at medic. His sharp eyes studied him, a terrifying look like a predator. The medic quickly turned his eyes away, not wanting to feel it anymore.

“I was considering your facial hair,” the spy dried his hands on a decorative towel, “It comes in black and won’t match the hair.”

The medic was forced to meet the sharp blue gaze as Lucien’s face came down to his level. A cold and slightly damp hand touched his cheek. He felt his heart galloping. His head began to spin. It was odd for any spy to remove his gloves in any given situation. Now, his bare hand had reached out to touch, though somehow it seemed foreign to what a spy should be.

“What do you think?” Lucien asked, “You could really use a shave.”

The medic held his breath. He was not sure what to do with this information. It was the kind of thought he would have to himself. Being told that by the spy seemed incongruent to reality.

“I’ll see what’s in the cupboard,” the spy turned away to open the cabinet.

The medic took a careful breath as he turned his head to look. The spy was pulling out things that looked like they might be related to shaving. Hygiene products now loitered on the countertop with various strange names and smells.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. He felt rather shaky. His knees felt weak. At least neither of them hurt though.

Lucien grabbed a tall tube-like container and sprayed some foam into his hand. He turned to reach for the medic’s face. That was when he stopped him, grabbing the spy’s wrists firmly.

“I can shave myself, danke,” he said as calmly as he could muster.

The spy nodded hesitantly, “Right. Of course.” He turned to the sink and washed his hands clean of the foam.

“Actually, it would be a good idea to take advantage of the shower,” the medic added, “Then shave.”

“You need to let the color set first,” Lucien argued.

“I’ll wait then,” he stepped out of the bathroom, instantly feeling some relief. The bathroom was too small and he needed some space.

“Oh man! That smells horrible!” Skeeter pulled his shirt up over his nose.

“We should make use of the shower before we leave,” the medic pointed to the bathroom door.

“I don’t think I want to…not with that stink in there,” Skeeter said through the shirt and a hand pinching his covered nose.

“Don’t be a child,” Lucien cut in, “You smell sour as you are.”

“You don’t exactly smell like cupcakes either!” Skeeter dropped his shirt from his face as he glared at the spy.

“As I said, we should take advantage of the shower,” the spy insisted.

“Shouldn’t doc go first?” Skeeter pinched his nose again, “He stinks. No offense.”

“You smell atrocious,” the medic shook his head.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll take the shower,” Brian stepped past Skeeter and headed into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Well…that solves that,” Lucien shuffled past Skeeter, away from the bathroom door.

After Brian finished, Skeeter finally washed up. When they finally cleared out of the shower, it was the spy’s turn. While he seemed somewhat wary of the scouts, the medic could tell that he was eager for a wash.

“So, what’s with you and the spy?” Brian suddenly asked.

The medic’s head whipped around, “What?”

“You and him…you’re friends right?” Brian asked.

Skeeter laughed, “How would doc be friends with a spy? Huh?”

“Not all spies are the same, you know,” Brian scorned, “You and I are both scouts, but we’re different. I bet Lucien is a lot different from other spies.”

The medic looked over at the door. It was left somewhat open due to the lack of ventilation. Already, it had become a sauna. Even if he was not the oldest living mercenary clone, Lucien was definitely different from the rest.

“You two seem to get along well,” Brian explained, “I thought maybe you’re friends. You’re so in sync. Me and Skeeter get along, but we’re both scouts. Same memories and stuff.”

Skeeter was quiet at that, pondering what Brian had said. At least he did not have anything more to say on the matter. He felt he could answer Brian’s question with breathing room.

“No, we are not friends,” he answered. He was careful about how loud his voice was. He did not want the spy to overhear them from his shower, “To be honest, I don’t even like him. We’ve been enemies despite being on the same team. I would not be surprised to find out he’s been trying to kill me.”

There was a moment of silence before Brian burst out with, “What? No way! He’s not trying to kill you!”

“That is…a little absurd,” Skeeter nodded in agreement with Brian.

“You idiots wouldn’t know,” the medic replied curtly, “You haven’t been around very long.”

“Then again, with your past body count it doesn’t surprise me that you think others would do the same,” Skeeter countered his own argument.

“What?” the medic took a mental step back as he tried to figure out what this meant.

“What do you mean?” Brian asked.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Skeeter shifted in his seat on a felt cushioned chair, “You’ve changed and stuff. You’re a nicer guy than you used to be. I won’t take that for granted. But, you were really kind of psycho back at the base. You know…you used to kill scouts on a whim for trying to mess with you. You almost killed me when I was messing around on a dare.”

“Why would you do that?” Brian looked from Skeeter to the medic and back, “Why would you do any of that? What the hell?”

“You haven’t seen what it’s like there,” Skeeter answered, “You’ll do whatever the guys tell you…cause otherwise you end up alone.”

The medic tightened his lips. He was used to being alone. He was alone for so long. It only got to him when he was around other people.

“But doc…” Brian looked at him with something like despair in the way he wrinkled up his forehead.

“I’m not going to be sorry about the past,” the medic refused to consider it. These younger mercenaries did not understand what he had to go through day in and day out.

“But you gotta live with it,” Skeeter argued, “Cause like…you’ve changed. Spy has changed too.”

“You think so?” Brian asked.

Skeeter nodded, “Yea, me and him go way back to the same base too. By the time medic got lost…spy was different. Even then he was different. Now I think he’s just more different.”

Medic was listening to what they were saying, but he was not sure how to take it. He was not sure how to process it. He was not even sure what to do with it.

“To be honest, he seemed kind of…broken down when we thought medic was dead,” Skeeter told Brian.

For a moment, medic remembered the disguise of Tanner. He remembered the spy coming into his room. He remembered deciding to seduce him in that moment, taking a chance at control. And finally he remembered what the spy said to him when medic found out the truth.

“I don’t trust him too much,” Skeeter explained, “But I trust him a little more than I used to. He’s a lot different now, being away from war and stuff. I don’t doubt he’s still a killer inside but…” Skeeter looked to Medic and suddenly looked surprised. He threw his hands up, “I’m not saying you have to feel a certain way about him. I’m just saying that things are a lot different now. Right?”

Medic could not say anything. It was true that they were all different now. But now different would they be if they were thrown back into the fray? They may just revert back to their old habits.

“I don’t know much about him,” Brian admitted, “I trusted him because you trusted him. Though, I guess he was Tanner for a while. He must be the first spy to successfully infiltrate that place by disguising as an employee.”

“Why is that?” they all spun their heads towards the bathroom door upon hearing his voice.

They were a bit baffled to see him undressed, down to nothing but a towel tied around his waist. Medic noticed that his obscured hand was holding something. It had the same colors as the scarf. It was the first he had taken it off in front of them, but he was still clinging to it.

“Get dressed!” Brian yelled, “You’re like…naked!”

“So?” Lucien fixed him with a stare, “Most mercenaries share a community washroom. Getting undressed in front of other men is not uncommon.”

“So? We’re not at the front! We’re not even on the site! We’re in civilian territory! Don’t you get that?” Brian exclaimed.

“S- Uh, Lucien? How much did you hear?” Skeeter asked hesitantly.

Lucien’s eyes moved to the other scout, staring at him for a moment. His eyes jumped to the medic, regarding him with the same gaze he always had. The medic figured it might well be the same gaze as ever. Whatever change was there did not change that his eyes were always the same.

“Enough,” Lucien said, before retreating into the bathroom.

Skeeter took a breath. His hands were trembling and he looked a little pale. The medic thought that for the moment Skeeter was remembering that he did not fully trust the spy either. No matter what he said, they would always remember their experiences. Their instincts would always remain.

“What the hell?” Brian whispered as he took Skeeter’s hand, “You look like your blood sugar dropped.”

“I’m fine,” Skeeter seemed to curl up a bit, pulling his knees towards his chest.


	12. Face Like New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited January 7, 2020 for errors

It was medic’s turn in the shower. The spy was still in there, standing at the mirror. But as he remembered the man saying, it was common to take community showers. He just never remembered a spy sharing a washroom with anyone.

“The color has probably set by now,” the spy commented as medic undressed.

“Yes,” he paused, glancing at the man looking in the mirror. He could have sworn the angle of his eyes was using the mirror to look at him. “Don’t stare, it’s rude.”

“My apologies,” Lucien seemed to double down on his concentration on shaving his lip.

“Hey!” Skeeter gave medic such a spook that he did not even realize which scout it was until he spun around. Skeeter waved at him warily. “Um, Brian just looked at the time. We got like thirty minutes to leave.”

Lucien looked from Skeeter to the medic and back, “That’s plenty of time.” He turned back to the mirror to continue shaving.

The medic wanted to say something about that being easy for the spy to say. It was not the spy’s fault though. The man outside had set the time on when they were to be gone. They wanted to be gone before he arrived to check.

Thirty minutes was not a lot of time though. As he scrambled into the shower, he realized that he would be hard pressed to wash and get his face clean shaven. He kept it in his mind that he needed to get in, scrub everything and get out fast, but as soon as he stepped under the hot water his body wanted to melt.

Aches and pains that he had been ignoring seemed to melt away. His tense muscles relaxed. His old bones seemed to sing for joyous relief. He just wanted to stand there under the water and let it beat against him.

“Medic, I have been meaning to ask you something,” Lucien spoke up.

His voice brought medic back to attention. He needed to be wary. There were dangers in the world, and they were not all spies. Many of them were as discreet as some civilian man calling authorities on them.

“What is that?” he asked as he scrubbed his arms.

“Do you remember…the cloning facility you came from?” Lucien asked.

“What?” unsure of what he meant, medic pulled back the curtain to look at Lucien.

Lucien was cleaning off his smooth face. His attention was caught by the movement and he looked back at the medic. They were silent for a moment, just letting the water run.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Where you’re from?” Lucien asked, “I’m sorry. I guess it would be hard to think about, yes? If it’s too much, don’t answer it. I just wondered if you are ever troubled by it is all.”

“Are you troubled by it?” the medic replied, wanting to keep the pressure off of himself.

The spy hesitated before turning away, “We should hurry up and get going.”

The medic closed the curtain and hurried to wash up. When he was sure he was as clean as he could get, he clambered out and grabbed a towel. He quickly dried off and turned to the mirror. His hair turned out nothing like the color on the box. It looked as if they tried to run silver through it.

He did not think about it too much as he slathered his face and began shaving. But the longer he stared at the mirror, the more frustrating it was to look at his hair. It was not even gold like the box. It was as if his hair was turned gray. The sideburns were nearly white. Perhaps the area where he had naturally turned gray was easier to color, because he could see a bit of shiny gold there.

“We gotta hurry!” he heard Brian say in the main room.

He wanted to retort something about not being rushed, but he decided not to break concentration. He wanted to make sure he was unrecognizable, but it almost seemed the opposite to make his hair a stand out color and shave his face. With a beard, it would cover more of his complexion than any amount of color would.

_“Hey, you’re looking a little worse for wear,” his partner chuckled softly._

_Aurick saw nothing funny about the situation. There was nothing laughable here. If his partner did not straighten out his attitude, he might have to break his nose. He was definitely not in a laughing mood._

_“Hey, what’s wrong?” the other man tried to draw him out of his mood, “I just wanted to say thanks though. You know, I don’t think I could do all of this work by myself.”_

_“Randal,” Aurick said in as sharp and as harsh a tone as he could muster._

_“Yes?” Randal turned those eyes towards him. They had such a hopeful gleam in them, as they always had when they were together._

_“Don’t speak to me,” as Aurick spoke, Randal’s eyes lost their gleam to a dull murky color, “I don’t know you. You’ve betrayed me.”_

_“I didn’t- I wouldn’t- I couldn’t- you aren’t understanding!” Randal pleaded with him._

_“We will finish their commission,” Aurick informed him sternly, “Outside of that, I will not be bothered with you.”_

_“Don’t be like that!” Randal approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder._

_Aurick shrugged the hand off of his shoulder. He was in no mood to be touched by anyone, let alone jauntily handled by his ex-lover. If not for the threats, he might have killed Randal himself. Well, might, given he was not sure he could look at the man’s face and not see him as he was before._

_Suddenly, Randal’s arms were around his middle. He was holding him from behind, burying his face against Aurick’s back. “I didn’t ask for this, you know? I didn’t do anything wrong,” Randal told him, “I just loved you. That’s it. I didn’t do this. I didn’t say anything.”_

_“Be more professional, Dr. Moser,” he said sternly._

_The arms slid away from him. The presence behind him stepped back. He felt a little relieved, despite the little part of him that longed for that warmth. He needed to keep his distance._

_“Oh,” he heard his longtime partner say, before walking away._

_Finally, he could focus on this work. The serum was not going to be made if he was too distracted. Dr. Randal Moser was the love of his life, and it was still too soon to get over that. But he also could not forgive the betrayal at being pulled into this work._

_It was so long since they started this work. Here they were, back at it again. Here they were, lying in each other’s arms. It was as if the world had disappeared for a while, and it was slowly coming back to his memory. He felt so old and tired, he was too weary for this shit._

_“Feels hot in here,” Randal took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Still, he made no attempt to move away from Aurick’s warm arm wrapped around him._

_Aurick lifted his free hand and pressed the back of it to Randal’s forehead, “You’re sweaty but not feverish. It’s just the activity.”_

_Randal sighed, “I’ve never been in shape._

_“No,” Aurick huffed a sigh._

_They let silence fall upon the room. For a while, it was just the creak of the poorly kept ceiling fan and the cars driving past the cheap motel. It was peaceful at first, but then there was nothing to distract Aurick from the guilt._

_He groaned. Deep in his belly he could feel the guilt growing. He should be happy to be back with his lover, defiant of laws and social opinions. He was there with the man he loved._

_Yet, this felt as though he had let himself down. He had let his old teammates down. He had let everything down. He did not care about the employers but… He had been so distraught over the betrayal. No matter how much Randal claimed to have told them nothing, he could not get past the feeling that Randal had revealed something to them. How else would they have known that they were together?_

_“Hey,” Randal interrupted his thoughts, “What are you thinking about?”_

_He could not tell him that. He could not tell him what he was thinking about. That would just create stress and tension. That was, if they did not break out into a verbal fight._

_He hated fighting with Randal. He always hated it. What his partner lacked in any physical prowess, he made up for in a loud voice with nasty things to say. It would be simply a screaming match. He was not accustomed to nor well equipped to handle such a confrontation. If this were a physical altercation it would be better. He could take some physical pain and put out more. He did not even feel like he could put any punch, that he did any damage when he shouted with Randal. But his fists could do all the talking for him._

_“Huh? Aurick?” Randal turned onto his side and gave Aurick a shake, “You didn’t die, did you?”_

_Aurick sighed. He could not bring it up now. As it was, he was supposed to be taking the supervisor’s advice and celebrate being chosen. Of all the scientists they had looked at, he was the one they picked. Not that he was surprised, it was almost as if they cornered him into this job so they could put him in the lot that could be chosen from._

_“Clones,” Aurick finally mumbled aloud._

_“Ahh, you’re thinking about the cloning project now?” Randal asked._

_“It might as well have been planned from the start,” he grumbled, “They already had their eyes set on the project. And now…”_

_He did not even know how to feel about it. The concept was simple, if insane. Yet, to think that in a couple of years there could be full grown copies of himself was mind blowing._

_“Heh, there could be a lot of you running around making amazing things happen,” Randal giggled._

_“Or we all have the same thought and scratch our heads because we’re stuck on a simple equation,” Aurick sighed._

_“That too? Your brain moves very fast when it wants to be troubled,” Randal teased._

_Aurick turned his head to face away. His mind was thinking about everything. He was thinking about where the scout was headed in his career. Where the sniper and the engineer might have disappeared to. And especially the betrayal he felt from Randal._

_“I want to support you with this,” Randal interrupted his thoughts, “But you have to cut me slack and tell me what’s going on in your head.”_

_“Everything,” Aurick answered, “Everything is going on in my mind.”_

_Suddenly, a hand sifted through his hair. He was not too surprised. Instead of reacting, he just let the hand massage his scalp._

_Randal sighed, “I wonder with how busy your mind is, how you manage to keep such luscious black hair. I don’t ever want it to change.”_

_“Why would it ever change?” Aurick chuckled._

_“Well, if the serum project works…it won’t,” he could imagine Randal grinning as he played with the back of his hair._

The medic stared at his hair for a long time. It was so much different from those memories. Maybe that was a good thing. It distinguished him from Aurick. It set him apart as his own man. Now with a clean shaven face and a new look, maybe he could distinguish himself differently in a civilian society as well.


	13. A Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories trouble the mind

Being out in broad daylight was the worst possible thing. Brian and Skeeter were dressed in oversized ill-fitting clothes, while looking like twins. Medic was trying not to meet anybody’s eye as he fiddled with his glasses. Lucien was the only one carrying himself in his mask. He had chosen a new persona, one stolen from the same facility, but far different from the man named Tanner.

People were walking around the streets and staring quite openly. People walking dogs, children tugging on their parents’ hands, and worst of all was a blue uniformed man who did a double take in their direction. Their masks were not fitting well and they as a whole did not fit in with this upper middle class area.

“Do rich people just like stare a lot?” Skeeter turned to the medic.

The medic shrugged. He was doing his best not to draw attention. But Lucien should have known better. A new hair color did not change anything about him. He still had that chiseled jaw and a face that stuck out among the crowd. No matter how bleached his hair looked, it was still styled and quaffed like he was some sort of gentleman ready to woo a lady with a pink rose. Lucien should have known better with his knowledge and experience in espionage.

“Man, I didn’t know Tanner grew up in such a wealthy place,” Brian whispered.

“You didn’t know? I figured only people down on their luck would take a job working for like…you know…the people who like…run…this stuff…” Skeeter’s voice trailed off in thought. There were a few moments of silence before he spoke up again. “Hey spy? Who runs stuff?”

“What do you mean who runs stuff?” Lucien grumbled. He was getting used to the scouts avoiding confrontation with him.

“You know, the war and stuff?” Skeeter asked.

The medic slammed his elbow hard into Skeeter’s side, causing him to bend forward and groan in pain. The medic hissed to silence him. Lucien did not make out the warning he told the young idiot.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Lucien picked up his pace. He wanted to be farther from the officer they passed and out of sight from these people. He did not know if any of those civilians heard what Skeeter said.

The streets became a little grayer and more worn as they kept going. They followed these streets with the anxious hope that there would be fewer people. Much to Lucien’s dismay, there were more people. They were everywhere too.

He heard the medic sigh audibly, “Finally a crowd to blend into.”

Lucien turned around and realized that the medic and the scouts were not directly behind him. He looked around, with people bumping into his shoulders and jostling him out of the way. He was not sure where he was, or where his comrades had gone.

He stepped by a lamp post and tried to get his bearings. There were people busily walking around everywhere. It was a literal crowd, who stampeded right through anybody who dared to stop.

“Hey, what you doing?” Skeeter popped out of the crowd.

“I lost track of medic,” Lucien kept scanning the crowd.

“He’s right beside Brian,” Skeeter pointed.

He followed the pointing finger and finally saw the medic. Standing there with his brows furrowed, the medic waited. He started right towards him, without hesitation for the scout.

“You just sort of freaked out and got separated from us,” Skeeter explained with a laugh, “Stay close by, okay?”

Lucien froze just a few feet in front of the medic. The man was still regarding him with furrow-browed scrutiny. Lucien had to shake himself as the dazed feeling held onto him. He had been so focused on the medic that he had forgotten that the medic did not like it. His obsession was showing.

No, he was not obsessive. He did not obsess over the medic. It was just his memories playing with him. He liked the medic and he did not like scouts. That was the totality of the math he needed to do. He was not obsessed.

Still, it would be nice if it did not look like the medic was judging him harshly, deciding on just how far to push the spy away. Arm’s length might not be enough anymore. He might just keep pushing him further away.

“Let’s get going,” Brian announced, “We should blend into the crowds until we hit a countryside path. Then we can just find our way from there, right?”

“Where are we going again?” Skeeter asked, with his face twisted in a puzzled look.

“North,” Lucien answered.

“Let’s go north then,” Brian nodded.

“Why?” Skeeter asked ever so quietly. There was no answer though, as they quietly followed the crowd crossing the street.

_“Ah, my favorite patient,” the voice teased over the speakers._

_He was not sure how long he had been there. He had tried various tactics to track the days going by. Everything was thwarted by the fact that they could knock him out with sedation. All it took was relocating him to another prepared room and all of the marks he made, the things he used, every tactic he had was ruined._

_His last tactic had been to mark the bed but as he looked over the edge he saw that this was gone. Finally waking up from the sedation, he ran his hands over his face to try and wake himself. The mask was back on his face now. He was not sure why they did this. Maybe it was to remind him that he was a spy and they expected him to be as much._

_“Did you sleep well?” the voice asked cheerfully._

_He let out a sigh as he slowly sat up. He reached up to his face and slowly removed the mask. He let it drop to the floor without care. He ran his hands over his face again, letting his soft fingers run over the unmarred skin on his face._

_“My assistants wonder why you take off the mask,” the voice said._

_“What do you think?” he growled._

_“I think you know,” the voice replied._

_The only thing he knew anymore were lies. He knew the truth now. He could not deny it. He was a clone and he was going to be sent to die. He was going to be disposed of like every other clone, with the memories of a man who goes on to live his life still dancing in his head._

_He would rather be put down though. Already threatened with the safe suffocation of euthanasia. Like a useless old tomcat he would be put out of his misery the way of sedation. Still, he would rather this than the war that would face him. He would keep up the lie until he eventually died of old age, or they carried out this little threat._

_He let out a chuckle and curled his lips into a smirk, “I’m afraid your brainwashing tactics have become a little too repetitive.”_

_“I suppose my tactics need to be renewed,” the door opened as the voice spoke, allowing him to leave._

_This was new. This had not happened before. It smelled like a trap on all fronts. He was not sure how to trust it. He was not entirely certain if he could trust it. If he went forward through the door, he might just be sent into another room, led along like a calf by its nosering._

_“You must think me stupid,” the spy glared at the speaker, waiting for the response._

_“I want to play a game,” the voice stated, “Will you play with me?”_

_“This is not time for child’s play,” the spy growled, “I am not going to respond to such a ridiculous tactic.”_

_“Oh, but the door is wide open,” the voice said, with a taunting tone, “How much closer could you be to escape.”_

_“I don’t care for escape,” he lied. There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again. “I want something more.”_

_“Oh?” the voice sounded intrigued, “And what is that?”_

_“To kill you,” the spy growled deep in his throat._

_A jostling laughter came through the speaker. He was surprised. He did not know what to say to it. He listened in stunned silence as the man simply laughed and laughed._

_“Well, I think you’re well on your way to figuring out the game then,” the voice said, “You’re pretty smart. I think you can figure out what is waiting for you out in the hallway.”_

_With a click, the speakers fell silent. He listened a little while more but there was nothing else. There was not even static coming through. It was pure dead silence that left him feeling haunted._

_He was not sure about the hallway. He had never seen the hallways. He might get a better understanding of the building if he at least took a look. But for all he knew, there was a guard standing outside ready to shoot him. The guards had to realize that the door was wide open by now._

_He stepped carefully towards the doorway. With each step he could feel his heart beat against his throat. He tried to listen very carefully, wary of his own footsteps. He could not hear anything else though._

_He stopped at the very edge. He waited, leaning close to the door’s frame. He listened, holding his breath as his ears searched for any signs of life outside. Beyond this door he could only guess what was there. Every guess he made was a preemptive attempt on his life and he was not sure how else to handle it. He could stay in the trap that was there or he could step beyond._

_He glanced at the speaker, mulling over his choices. Surely, if he were the real thing, he would have taken the chance of freedom already. His hesitation was only making him seem less and less like the real thing, making him look like he doubted himself. Of course he did not doubt himself as a spy, he just came to the conclusion on his own that he was not the real man._

_But going forward was risky. He understood that well. Maybe he understood that better than the original man. Reckless would be to step out without taking precautions. Still, he had to step out if he wanted to make any headway beyond being sent to the frontlines._

_He released a breath he did not realize he was still holding and stepped out into the hallway. It was an empty barren place with walls like the rooms’ walls. Designed to keep people trapped the large metal walls were all gleaming under the same artificial light. He might as well have stepped into another trap room. Only this one was long, with more doors._

_He proceeded slowly down the hallway. He listened to every step, cautious of any changes in the area. More so, he worried there may be a booby trap. The slightest change in sounds could alert him to such a thing._

_He was surprised when a clatter hit his ears. He was nearly startled out of his skin. He looked down at the offending noise maker and worried his heart would race out of his chest when he saw a gun._

_The click of a latch snatched his attention, but he did not see which door it came from. He took a breath, eager to keep living. He snatched up the gun and proceeded down the hallway._

_He was sure what the game’s end was meant to be. However, he did not mean to end his own life. He would play this little game until the voice managed to lead him right to his hideaway. He just had to keep up with the mouse for now._

A hand shook his shoulder. He gave himself a shake and looked around. Skeeter was the one bending down to his level. He glared at the scout, irritated to be pulled out of his nap.

“Hey, it’s time to go,” Skeeter threw a thumb in the direction of the others.

The spy clambered to his feet and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired and he was not sure why. If only dreams could be more pleasant. He might actually sleep better if there were not so many nightmares to be had. At least none of it had become a night terror. He was not ready to face that with three others who already distrusted him.

“We found a map,” Brian made a similar gesture with his thumb in a vague direction.

“Where is the map?” Lucien asked, rubbing his eye.

“It’s like a statue thing. It’s not mobile,” Brian explained.

“There is an off limits facility south west of here,” the medic interjected, “It was vague, but it looks like a facility that produces weapons and gadgets clones use. If we sneak in, we can collect some supplies for the road.”

“I still think we would be a bit too conspicuous,” Skeeter argued.

“He is right,” Lucien agreed quickly. He did not want to go south west. That was too far away from where he wanted to be. “We are going north.”

“Why not grab guns though?” Brian insisted, “You know they have pistols there.”

“And they probably have smaller med kits that would be less conspicuous,” the medic added.

“And if we get caught? Then we’re toast,” Skeeter interjected, “No way are we going in there.”

“It would be like the facility we were in before,” the medic argued.

“No, if it’s a firearms type of facility, then it would be stupid to go in,” Skeeter shook his head.

“Tanner told me about these facilities,” Brian argued, “We don’t have the memories because our memories end at the scans, but the original Skeeter went on to work with the weapons testing facilities. Since he is no longer around, scout clones like us test the firearms and other gadgets.”

The medic nodded in agreement, “We would blend in better than these crowds.”

Lucien’s jaw dropped. Clones inside of the civilian boundaries? He could not believe that. Never mind the idiocy anybody would have to have in order to accept such dangerous people around civilization. There was no way the government would trust them.

“We sneak in, pretend to be regular workers there, then we sneak out,” Brian explained.

“I guess it makes sense,” Skeeter scratched his neck.

Lucien looked from one man to the next. His gaze landed on medic and he raised an eyebrow, “And what of the medic? You think he would blend in so well?”

“Apparently there are also medic clones. They need people with knowhow to test the medical equipment, you know. Besides, the scouts are always getting hurt by faulty gadgets and they are easier than employing real doctors,” Brian explained.

“REAL DOCTORS?!” the sheer audacity of Brian’s words tore into the medic’s pride and released his rage.

Lucien ignored the medic’s temper since it was not directed at himself. He instead focused on Brian, “How would employing men as dangerous as him be more convenient than employing civilians?”

Brian shrugged, “I dunno, but it makes sense. I mean, Dr. Jodie was one of the only doctors? And the only other doctor I remember seeing was only there when called in…so…it makes sense.”

“So like, there are clones there to blend in with. We get what we need, then we get out?” Skeeter asked.

“That’s the plan,” Brian nodded, apparently unaware of how close to being strangled to death he was.

“And how will you get out?” Lucien asked.

“The same way we get in,” Brian insisted.

“You don’t have a plan for how you are getting in, do you?” Lucien asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Not until we know the facility,” Brian shook his head.

“Alright,” Skeeter itched his nose, “Let’s do this.”

The medic took a breath and relaxed a bit. He seemed to be letting go of his anger as the group began to rally for this trip. He did not say anything, just wordlessly accepted the scouts’ excitement for what it was.

“If we do this, we are going to get killed,” Lucien argued.

“Don’t be so worried,” Skeeter patted Lucien’s shoulder.

“Worried?” Lucien glared at the scout, “I think I’ll save my worry and wait on the sidelines.”

“Cool, whatever,” Skeeter rolled his eyes.

“Wait, you’re not coming?” Brian looked disappointedly at Lucien.

He shook his head and folded his arms over his chest, “I have made it clear, I am against this plan. It is a death trap or worse. I will not go with you. You can go by yourselves.”

“Fine, we will,” Skeeter retorted, stepping up beside Brian, “Let’s do this!”

Lucien’s eyes shifted and he met the medic’s gaze. The medic shrugged at him and said, “Don’t expect us to bring you anything.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes, “Don’t expect me to save you in the end.”


	14. Tour of the Weapons Factory

The point at which public property ended and the factory property began was very unclear. Medic was very wary about this fact. It seemed like the kind of place you would not want civilians to wander into. Yet, as they came to the place, they realize that there was an entire herd of civilians being escorted to a lobby. They chattered amongst themselves, mostly oblivious to the three mercenaries trying to blend in.

So far, nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. They might just get away with pretending to be civilians. Medic was not prepared to let his guard down though. He was not going to let them take him. He certainly would not let them kill him.

They moved with the group as it converge at a set of three steps. There, a man was waiting for the crowd to join him. He smiled, pleasantly greeting them. Finally aware of their focal point, the crowd of people began bundling around this man. Not wanting to stand apart, medic and the scouts joined them. They avoided the edges of the group, not daring to be picked out by anybody who might recognize them.

“This factory was built over a hundred years ago,” medic tuned into what the man was saying, “It was originally owned by a company called Mann Co.”

He was surprised. He had not heard this company name in so long. It felt like an eternity since anybody had said anything about the existence of Mann Co. It had practically disappeared into the depths of memory. It might as well have never existed at all.

“It funded a private war for the rich,” the man went on. This gartered a lot of chuckling from the crowd, though the trio were not sure what was funny. “Quite the nonsense, right?” the man chuckled along with them.

“Eat the rich!” a youth called out with a bark of laughter.

“About seventy eight years ago now, this company’s factories were bought out by the Federation,” the man explained.

Ah the Federation. Medic thought he had been beyond politics, yet it was already giving him a sour taste in his mouth. Aurick had been working defiantly against them, until the Federation got a hold of blackmail. It was this memory that would always sour the Federation’s name on his tongue.

“Since then, the factory has continued to develop weapons that previous military did not have access to. The technology and advancements made at these facilities was far beyond the reaches of what was previously discovered,” the man explained.

“Like the disguise kit?” a man asked loudly.

“Like the medigun?” a woman asked loudly.

Medic looked at the other two. They were copies of each other, mouths slightly hung open and their eyebrows raised. They were just as shocked as he was to learn that these people knew about their technology. It was openly being talked about, as if the secrets of the past were open books.

“We develop a large portion of advanced technology at this factory,” the man informed them, “Though, we do not make disguise kits, we do have a copy of the disguise kit on display for viewing. Please remember that displays are not for touching, they are for looking.”

A hum of agreement passed through the group as the man turned and walked away. The group funneled up the three steps to follow him. Like sheep, they chased their shepherd down a hallway. They met him halted at a hallway with case displays at either side.

“This is where you can look at the weapons that we _do_ produce at this facility,” he told them.

As people funneled into the hall, they spread around to look through the glass at the things behind it. Medic tried his best to look enamored with the displays, if only to blend in. It was hard to be too interested when what he needed had to be deeper in the factory.

“Ah, this one was called the Wrangler,” the medic became aware of the man’s presence next to him.

He kept his mouth shut. He dared not give away his voice. He already looked too suspicious. He was sure the moment the man heard him speak he would be found out.

“I think you’ll all be excited to see what we have in here,” the man started down the hall, giving medic a chance to breathe, “It’s developed here specifically.”

Medic glanced around at the people following the man’s beckoning. Not wanting to be left behind, he quickly followed. He kept an even pace though, not wanting to look too eager. He wanted to look average, his interest being no more or less than the rest of them. He was gladly joined by Brian and Skeeter.

“Right through this door is what we have designed here specifically for the mercenaries’ health,” the man explained, throwing the door open.

The stepped into a brightly lit larger room. In the middle was a display case, with red ropes surrounding it to keep people away. Medic stared at the piece, his heart sinking. He remembered that piece. He had been trying to duplicate it back at base. He had tried so hard to use the supplies given to him to make what he had started. He was not sure if it was a memory from Aurick or if it was an original thought at all anymore. This was a finished piece of what looked like a cannon. It had a hose attachment like a regular medigun that linked back to the pack that would be carried on his back. Along the cannon were a set of controls, a complex system that was beyond any of the standard mediguns. Several of them were marked with a carved button with a class symbol on it. Though his own thrown together piece had just had duct tape and black marker to indicate each class symbol.

This thing was supposed to be revolutionary. Not only could it piece together a wounded man, but it could do so with their DNA. He was not sure if his prototype at base could have done quite what he had planned with the DNA, but the hope would have been the ability to recover a man from the edge of death, if not farther.

He stared at it for a long time. He wanted to reach out and touch it. The man was completely tuned out as he thought about how much more powerful he would be with this weapon. If this thing was anything like the plans, then it could bring men back to life. At least, it could bring men back to life within the range of having their DNA processed. That meant each class button was a switch between the genetic material that had been processed from the original. He wanted to see something like that in action.

“Oh man! Will we get to see this thing in action?” Skeeter asked loudly. Immediately, Brian slammed an elbow into the other scout’s ribs.

The man hesitated before saying, “Unfortunately, this piece is not yet ready for human testing. At this time, it is being worked out as to whether it would be fully successful in doing what it does without falling apart.”

Ah yes, the conundrum of technology. Everything falls apart. The more complex it is, the more likely it is to be burdened by its own body. It would have a hard time staying together on its own. That was why he had used so much duct tape on his prototype.

“In our next display,” the man proceeded towards a grand entrance with the doors left wide open. Everybody started following him without question. “We have a historical piece. It is no longer in development and hasn’t been since it was bought up by the Federation.”

As they entered the room, medic became at a loss of word. Standing at a massive twelve feet high, pressed tight against the ceiling, with its broad side stretching out at a five by ten meter size was the hulking machine once called respawn. Now quiet and unresponsive, it was unlike in his memory, where it once breathed with life and hummed quietly.

“This here is called the Australium Genetic Reassembly Machine,” the man lied.

“That’s not what it is,” Skeeter scoffed in a whisper, “It’s a respawn machine!”

Brian quickly elbowed him again, “Be quiet!”

“Who here has ever heard of this machine?” the man asked loudly. Brian grabbed onto Skeeter’s arm, as if he was afraid. Medic was glad because nobody raised their hands and they did not need to stand out more. The man glanced over his audience before he continued, “Until as recent as a year ago, this machine remained in storage. It was just sitting to the side in the lot of things that the Federation bought from Mann Co. It’s a piece of history that we should appreciate greatly. But some eighty years ago, mercenaries believed that with this machine working it could bring men back to life. It could put them back together in fighting condition and keep them working their day to day deadly job.”

“That’s exactly what it did!” Skeeter hissed.

There was an outburst of laughter that covered Skeeter’s remark. It was clear that nobody believed it. It was an apparent myth. To medic, if his memory was to be believed, this thing was far more remarkable than any medigun and did what the prototype in the other room was supposed to do, but with full efficiency.

“So why don’t you start it up?” a man in the front asked, “Let’s see if it works.”

“We can’t,” the man announced, “It no longer works.”

“That’s convenient,” the outspoken audience member went on.

“It isn’t,” the man said, “This baby ran on australium. It is said that in their fight for property, the Mann brothers also fought for australium. Perhaps it was even a third party trying to steal the australium. In any case, it was their private war that depleted Earth’s entire cache of australium. With no more australium, there can be no more power to it.”

There was a reverberating hum through the crowd. They began to buzz about this information. Some people were outraged and angry. Something about Global Warming and australium having been stolen by those rich men.

Medic turned his head down, staring at the floor between his feet. The man was right. Without australium, the machine did not work. The world was no doubt depleted, but it was not as if Mann Co had been the only let alone the main proprietor of australium. The Federation simply did not use it for something as complex and amazing as a respawn machine.

“I wonder what those mercenaries would say about it now,” a woman chuckled.

“Well, let’s move on to the next display. I would like to introduce you to our special guest,” the guide started towards a set of doors on the other side of the respawn machine.

Medic tore his eyes away from the respawn machine. What a piece of work it was. He wondered what the spy might say about it. It probably would have changed their world if there had been more australium to keep it going.

“Watch your step, ladies and gentlemen,” his attention was caught by the tour guide, who brought them to a hallway lined with pictures.

Black and whites were framed all around them. Medic was not sure how to process them. They were pictures of war. Explosions in black and white dazzled the onlookers. Many of them depicted scout running quickly. A few of them actually captured the heavy weapons guy carrying a powerful minigun. His attention was drawn to the one that did not look like it had anything to do with a war. It was a team photo, with the whole lot of them together. It was so long ago that his sideburns were still fairly dark. He was actually smiling in that picture, mouth spread wide and teeth whiter than paste.

He looked like such a pleasant and happy man in the photo. What happened? Being a clone did not help. He was not exactly the same man as Aurick was. Still, he wondered if there was any chance he could catch a glimpse of that happy feeling, posing alongside grinning killers who were freshly establishing their loyal bonds to the team.

“I would like you all to meet our special guest,” the guide announced, drawing everyone’s attention away from the pictures.

Medic tore his eyes away from the picture long enough to become stunned. Though he was graying, with a bit of facial hair around his jaw, Skeeter was all too recognizable. He still had that crooked grin that he always wore for his own cocky means.

His words were tuned out. Medic did not know what he was saying. He did not know what any of the words meant. It was just noise that went over his head. He just had to stand there and withstand the torrent of it.

He moved when Brian and Skeeter moved. He followed along with them, as they headed down the hall into a firing range. Here, there were other clones, the majority of them were scouts, mostly focused on their work as they fired weapons at targets at the other end.

He caught sight of two snipers, one engineer and three heavy weapons guys. They were all focused on their work. They were probably ignoring the crowd on purpose. They might well have been told to do so.

“This is where we test the weapons out,” Skeeter was explaining.

It was then that medic noticed the glass between them and the actual firing range. They were not in the range, they were in a viewing section that allowed them to see what the mercenaries were doing. It was probably for the best since foolish people might run out into danger. Not that glass would be of any help with misfired bullets though.

“What if they turned around and started shooting at us?” a woman asked, her shaky voice full of concern as she backed to the far edge of the group.

“This doesn’t seem save,” another woman added.

“Ladies, please,” Skeeter waved his arms in the air to keep their attention, “This is bulletproof glass. You could shoot a magnum at this thing…even a minigun couldn’t break through this stuff. It’s high tech and built to withstand the impact of a barrage.”

That sounded like a bunch of made up stuff. It even sounded like Skeeter had rehearsed this information. He just spewed it out without thinking about it. It was not the usual nonsense that would come out of a scout’s mouth.

Still, they proceeded to watched the firing range as the mercenaries tested out each piece. It was like they were actual professionals with what they were doing. They were never goofing off. There were no taunts. There was nothing exciting about it.

Even so, some of the people in the crowd said things like “cool!” and “wow” and “it’s so loud and bombastic!” They had never experienced the true thrill of battle before.

A new set of doors was opened to them as the tour guide announced, “This concludes our presentation for today. Feel free to browse the displays or to peruse the gift shop.”

“Gift shop?” medic could not help but become bewildered by the concept of a gift shop. A gift shop for a factory like this? A historical tour? This place seemed more like a museum than a factory producing weapons.

He started towards the newly opened doors when a hand stopped him. He turned to look at the man who appeared before him. He was joined by the tour guide. Behind the tour guide stood Skeeter.

“Might we have a moment of your time sir?” the tour guide asked.

His heart rate picked up to a gallop. He could already see where this was going. He should have known that coming here was a mistake. It did not matter what he wore or what he did with his hair, his face was completely recognizable.

“Should…should I call security or something?” the man holding a hand out asked the tour guide.

“Uh…well…” the tour guide was studying medic’s face, as if he was not sure what he was looking at.

“Is something wrong?” he tried his best to sound like anything other than German. Maybe more like an Englishman.

Suddenly, there was laughter. They turned to Skeeter, who pushed past the two men to join medic at his side. Suddenly, he was patting medic’s shoulder giddily.

“You guys! You’re so weird! He doesn’t want a picture with me!” Skeeter said boisterously.

“We weren’t going to offer a picture,” the man with his hand out said, “He’s clearly…well…” the man squinted at medic’s face.

“You got it all wrong,” Skeeter turned to him, “Sorry pal. They get real nervous around here about clones and stuff.” He paused, grabbing onto medic’s hand to shake it.

“Skeeter,” the tour guide looked from the original scout to the clone medic with a look that bespoke worry or perhaps fear.

“Let me show you the knick knacks you can buy at the gift shop!” Skeeter suddenly put an arm around his shoulders, directing him away from the disgruntled men. He was dragged haphazardly towards the door to the gift shop, while other people excitedly talked around them. They slipped into the filtering crowd of the little shop and somehow the medic found that he was dragged straight to the exit.

“Sorry about all the trouble,” Skeeter put on his usual grin as he opened the door.

The medic was so taken aback by the smile, the gesture, the way Skeeter treated him so kindly. It made him stop in his tracks, forcing the other man to stop. This was not like him. This was unlike Skeeter at all.

“You’re not Skeeter, are you?” the question just slipped off of his tongue.

Skeeter glanced around. Apparently a few people had heard him mutter this and were murmuring to each other. Skeeter opened the door wide and gestured for them to follow, “Let’s step outside for some air.”

Not wanting more of a scene, medic followed. It was then that he realized that both of the scout clones were right behind him. Both of them were sidling along, trying to look like they were not embarrassed. At least, their faces looked embarrassed.

He followed Skeeter down a walkway to where the bushes lined a pretty fence. It was a split way that took visitors back down to the front of the factory. It was a lovely walk, but a bit much for a place that developed weapons, in medic’s opinion.

Skeeter turned to him, pulling him to the side so that passersby would not see them through the bush at first. He peered around the bush just as the two clones slipped around to the other side. They seemed to think that this Skeeter did not see them at all.

Skeeter sighed when he was sure they were away from civilians. He let out a half-hearted chuckle. It wounded strange. It was not a happy-go-lucky sort of attitude. He was not the bubbly man with all the bravado of a soldier. In fact he looked depressing.

“I’m uh…” Skeeter hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s me, I just…people get old and change. You know?” He raised his head to meet medic’s gaze. “I know you’re a clone. I know you’ve escaped. I’m not sure from where, but…” He paused, glancing around the bush. He seemed to expect somebody to come down this way already. “If it were me, I would be trying to escape a thousand times. I get it.”

“You’re going to turn us in?” the medic tensed.

They had been caught. Of course the real original scout would recognize him. They worked closely together in very dangerous situations, and with spies around knowing each other’s faces and personalities had been a crucial part of their work.

Maybe he should be taking advantage of their distance from others already. He should run now before it was too late. The other two men inside had already made problems for them. They were likely going to tell authorities about the clones that had appeared in the factory.

Skeeter put his hands on his hips and diverted his gaze elsewhere, “I guess I’ll have to do some clean up. You know, gotta convince some people that you’re not really a clone. You know? But…I’m not gonna turn you in.”

There was a long pause. Medic felt he should be speaking at this point. But what was there to say? He was not sure what defense he could even give.

“You don’t seem to have caused any trouble so far,” Skeeter went on, “And…you know…they may say all that stuff about you guys being produced for fighting…but like…all that junk is bogus.”

“You think it’s bogus?” one of the scouts spoke up. Medic flinched and turned to see both scout clones peering around the bush curiously.

“Well…yea!” Skeeter gestured. His body seemed to have picked up the memory of who he was as his body language became more aggressive. “You guys are me. Like, you’re not me. But you are me. You have my memories from the scan. But uh…well…if you’re really meant to replace me then you’re the same as me, right?”

“I think that’s the basic gist of it, yea,” Brian said.

Medic could have argued that clones diverted from the original personality quite frequently. It was in small ways, but it was relevant enough to make a clone a different person from the original. Though, he could not bring himself to say anything. Now was not the time to be technical or correct.

“You guys are like me,” Skeeter shrugged, “You’re…human.”

“Yea…that’s…” the clone Skeeter clicked his tongue as he pondered his next words, “I can’t blame people for being scared. But I don’t think I felt so human before getting here.”

The original Skeeter flinched when they heard a noise. He peered around the bush to see what was going on. He turned back to the medic this time.

“Look…you know I made mistakes. We both know I made mistakes. I fucked up really bad…I’m…I’m sorry,” he offered these words with his hands outstretched and his palms up, “I fucked up. I betrayed the team, and…I have never been able to live that down.”

“What is he talking about?” Brian whispered.

“I don’t know,” clone Skeeter whispered in return.

The original Skeeter looked the medic in the eyes firmly, “I don’t know if you remember…maybe it was after the scan. I’m really sorry though. And…I know this doesn’t fix anything, but I’m not making the same mistake again.”

Medic felt a little shocked. He was never expecting anything like this. It seemed unprecedented. And a fuck up? What fuck up could have happened that the original scout would resolve himself to helping a random clone?

“Uh…I think it’s time to go,” Brian caught his attention.

“Just walk calmly,” the original Skeeter patted the medic’s arm, “Don’t run. You’ll be fine.”

Taking the man’s advice, the medic started walking. He was not sure if the scouts were following him until he caught their footsteps in his earshot. He proceeded past the fence and turned down the street. He kept going, assuming the scouts were still following him. He kept onward and dared not look back.

He kept in mind what the scout had said. He should not run. He would be fine. But there was a strange feeling, much like an itch. It resided in his mind, toying with him to look deeper into what he remembered.

He knew what it was. There was no point in dragging it out though. That was beef with Aurick, not himself. Thinking of himself as needing the original scout to pay back for what he did would be a useless point.


	15. Remembering

Medic and the scouts met up with the spy far away from the weapons factory. They were not looking for him. Rather, he seemed to just come upon them. All the while, Brian was mumbling something about almost getting caught and meeting the real Skeeter. Skeeter was fairly silent during all of this.

“So? No weapons, no supplies…I take it this raid did not go well,” Lucien’s tone was haughty as he eyed them up and down.

“Shut up, spy!” Skeeter suddenly barked.

There was silent. Medic did not want to talk anyways. They had failed in their mission, and now they were likely going to be reported. Even if the original scout did ensure them an easy escape, they could very well be pursued again.

“Did anybody see or identify you?” Lucien inquired haughtily, “Are we on the run once again? With no vehicle this time?”

“Um…sort of?” Brian scratched his head.

“What do you mean?” the spy demanded.

“Well, we met the real Skeeter,” Brian explained, “And he recognized us and medic. But I think maybe he covered for us?” Brian turned to medic, “What was going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” medic shook his head, “It was nothing.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed, “Surprised, and yet that is not surprising at all.”

“Wait,” Brian visibly flinched, “That’s not right.”

“What’s not right?” Skeeter asked.

“I mean…it’s been so long…and sure he looks older but…” Brian looked at Skeeter with his brow furrowing.

“What does that have to do with anything,” Skeeter asked.

Brian looked between each of them, “I guess you guys don’t know how long it’s been. It’s been like…seventy years.”

“Seventy years?” medic inquired, “Since what?”

“Since the scans?” Brian offered, “Since cloning started? Since the war changed?”

“Okay, what about it?” Skeeter demanded.

“Well, the original Skeeter was like…twenty-six when he did the scans,” Brian explained, “Like…a good looking twenty-six!”

“You wouldn’t have a memory of actually scanning in,” Lucien said, crossing his arms over his chest, “It significantly lacked in more recent memories to separate you from the real deal. He was more like twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-seven? Still!” Brian protested, “Don’t you think he looks pretty young for adding seventy years to that?”

Medic said nothing. He was thinking about what the spy had said. Perhaps something had been broken or gone wrong. This was certainly not the case for him. He knew the rest of his memories were just dreams and stuff his brain was making up. The scans though…he remembered those. He remembered testing the scan process on others first. He remembered seeing clones of the scout – or at least Aurick’s memory of seeing the first clones of the scout – before he ever sat in the chair to have his own brain scanned.

“He does seem pretty young,” Skeeter agreed with a nod, “Do you think it’s maybe a scam?”

“It’s not important,” Lucien waved a hand dismissively, “Let’s go before we are found. You idiots have done enough damage.”

As they fell into step behind the spy, Skeeter and Brian started talking quietly to each other. “Do you think he’s real?” “Maybe? I mean, I don’t know.” “He seemed young to me.” “Me too.” “Maybe he’s just a clone who was allowed to just…be alive long enough to age.” “Yea, maybe that’s it.”

Medic followed when they started walking but he said nothing. He was not sure how to relate to them at the moment. Even Brian seemed to be so clueless. Did he not know? Society had gotten so much better in the past decades. With a few hiccups here and there, humanity had slowly climbed a ladder to immortality. He even remembered having a hand in it. Or maybe he did not, and it was just made up in his mind.

“Please don’t fall behind,” the spy barked at them, “We have a long way to go.”

“Where are we going?” Skeeter asked.

“North,” Lucien answered curtly.

Medic did not respond. He just followed along quietly. Lost in his thoughts, he wondered if he was starting to lose it. Ever since leaving the frontlines everything had been a little strange. Being in that facility had been a little strange too, even a little relaxing. Being out here made him feel that maybe he was more lost than ever. Maybe he should not have left the frontlines.

When they finally stopped, they had no proper place to lay down. It was dark and they were not sure where exactly they were. Perhaps it was an unfenced field or something. Whatever it was, it was softer and cleaner than lying in the road.

Medic would have remained silent as he laid down, if not for how close he noticed Lucien had laid down. Lucien was not looking at him or anything. Rather, he was preoccupying himself with removing his scarf. He seemed protective of it as he laid in the cool grass.

Medic quickly pulled his eyes away before he could be spotted looking Lucien’s direction. It was strange to think that the spy was so quick to move close to them. Not that they had ever been enemies. They had not been on very good terms though. Medic never really cared to be on good terms with a spy clone anyways.

_“Scouts playing games with your office, doc?” the familiar French accent caught him off guard._

_He flinched, turning his attention to the Frenchman entering his clinic. He was by far one of the most unique men of his class, especially for the more experienced of men. He wore a colorful scarf that was not particularly aesthetically pleasing, but seemed to hold a certain beauty, almost as if it held some sentimental value. He had a small white nick, an old scar to the side of his right eye, something he gained during battle. But, like every other man of his class, he held a cigarette between his teeth, a burning stick that seemed to bring his mood down to a mellow tone._

_“Such morons,” the medic muttered in German._

_“Such crisis,” the Frenchman replied in the same language._

_“What do you need spy?” the medic asked._

_“I was just dropping by,” the man pulled the cigarette out to let the rest of the smoke from his lungs._

_“If you continue smoking that, you will die quicker with the aid of cancerous tumors,” the medic noted, as he closed up the filing cabinet. He grew a bit worried that the spy might get a little too close to the confidential data._

_“We’ll all die a lot quicker from the battlefront,” the spy replied._

_“Point taken,” the medic placed his glasses in their proper place upon the bridge of his nose._

_“You have been working on something lately?” the spy asked, leaning against a wall. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest._

_“Do you care?” the medic asked, walking in a half circle, placing his body in between the spy and his desk, in a sense._

_“It’s of no interest in particular to me what you are doing,” the Frenchman stated, “I was just making small talk.”_

_“Since when do you wander into my office?” the medic demanded._

_“It’s rather boring…demomen, soldiers and scouts have all tired my patience. Not to mention the lacking of intellect among the heavys,” the spy explained, his eyes meandering around the room, “I want to forget about the pyros.”_

_“I see,” medic cleared his throat, pushing his recent notes into a pile of random papers that would mean nothing if the spy saw them._

_“Not even an attempt at conversing?” the man asked, with uncertainty._

_“I’m not exactly used to you arriving in my clinic,” he replied, turning to face the spy squarely, “Even with illness or ailment, it seems you elude my office for the sake of avoiding me.”_

_“Apple a day keeps the medical practitioner away, they say,” the spy replied, “Or at least, that’s what I hear.”_

_“So they say,” the medic leaned back on his desk._

_“Well…” the spy removed the cigarette from his mouth, studying him pensively. His sharp eyes seemed to take in every detail, studying him from head to toe._

_“What?” he pressed, wanting the spy to stop looking so quiet and pensive._

_“You’re not a very talkative person when you aren’t seeing somebody for an injury, are you?” the spy asked._

_“It’s not a commonality that I get visitors within my office,” he shrugged, “Most people who arrive in my office have a set of goals. Most commonly to have a sickness treated or an injury repaired.” He looked the Frenchman from head to toe and back. “And you are neither,” he stated, with a bold tone._

_“That…Russian heavy comes to your office quite often,” the spy replied, “Even when he is not injured.”_

_“He is an exception in that not most others will spend unending hours overthinking a game of chess,” he gestured with one hand dramatically, to emphasize the time spent on a single move._

_“So, not an intimate partner,” the spy stated, in a pensive tone._

_The medic felt his face flush, the blood rising to his face with a tone of embarrassment. “No! Not at all!” he exclaimed, feeling humiliated by such an assumption._

_“Good,” the spy said pensively._

_“Why? It’s none of your business whether anybody was having any relations with anybody in this place!” the medic proclaimed, “Why would you come to such a conclusion anyways? Normal people have normal conversations with normal people, spending the time of day on a game or deep conversation.”_

_“Everybody knows Dr. Aurick Radlof and every clone of him is homosexual. So, it’s not a far stretch to assume what you do with the attentions of men in your office,” the Frenchman shrugged._

_His face grew hotter and hotter with outrage and embarrassment. He was not even sure what to say in response. Attempting to refuse the accusations would mean nothing to the spy, who had the specs on every single man in every team, not just the classes._

_“Don’t be so taken aback,” the spy went on, placing the stick between his teeth again, “It’s not as if nobody knows. Everyone knows the classes.”_

_The medic paused, taking a breath. Every clone was near identical to the original, from their memories down to their personalities. With that, he pushed the front of his hair back, composing himself. He would simply delve into what he knew about the spy class._

_“Perhaps I should bring up that Gabin Belhumeur was a sociopath, whose array of personality disorders were passed on into most every spy,” the medic went on, hoping to cut into the man’s fervent attempt to humiliate him in his own office._

_“It is reliant to my job,” the spy replied, barely batting an eye at the accusation._

_The medic was taken by surprise at the man’s reluctant shrug. He was not even fazed at the thought. It had already occurred to him that he was just as sociopathic as the man he was cloned after._

_He cleared his throat, “Do you think even half of the men here would trust you in the bunker, knowing you were a sociopath?”_

_The Frenchman quirked an eyebrow at him, “What point are you getting to? I’m already an untrusted class in every team.”_

_“Do you really think that a scout…or a demoman…or even a soldier…has read thoroughly through the specs sheets? If they had, would they really hesitate to kill the spies in the same building as them?” the medic went on. He put every ounce of heat and callousness into his tone that he could muster._

_“Then what has held you back?” the spy asked._

_He hesitated, “What?”_

_“Why haven’t you attempted to be rid of me? Or any other scout that has come through this facility, for that matter?” he pulled the cigarette from his teeth to let the smoke out before placing it back between his lips, “I’ve been here for thirteen years and you’ve yet to approach me with a blade. If I’m such a perceived threat, surely you had debated getting rid of my class.”_

_“No,” the medic shook his head slowly, “In the long term perspective of the war…the spy is a necessary evil.”_

_He chuckled, a dark and menacing sound, “So you think of me as evil?”_

_“I don’t believe in evil, parse,” the medic shrugged. He turned around to look at the papers on his desk, just to busy himself for a little while._

_“What do you believe in?” the spy pressed, “If you do not believe in evil, then what is good?”_

_“What is good you ask?” the doctor paused, turning slowly to look at the spy. He felt a little entranced by the question, as it invoked much deeper thinking, the way a chess board invoked the heavy’s inner patience._

_“Yes, that is what I asked!” the spy exclaimed, taken back by the question._

_The medic chuckled at the response, “It’s not what we do here, that’s for sure!”_

_“You consider our work here to be evil, despite not believing in evil?” the spy asked._

_“I suppose it is a contradiction,” the medic replied._

_“I don’t suppose you would have pondered this before,” the spy went on._

_“This is a conundrum I am sure each and every man debates in this time within these walls,” he stated, with a dismissive shrug._

_The walls outside echoed with scouts’ voices, “You’re dead to me!”_

_“Of course…I suppose there are those whose only conundrums are who to prank next,” the medic went on._

_“Indeed,” the spy nodded._

_The medic paused for a bit. It seemed odd, and took him out of the conversation, just to think of having this conversation. The spy would normally occasion the common area, with everybody else. There were conversations to be had there, talks of good lives and old times that they remembered._

_Medic was left alone to his office and clinic. Once in a while, casualties would be limped into this area, but otherwise only the heavy ever came to visit. And otherwise it was prearranged. It was usually checkups, mandated by the higher ups’ offices. So, to be here visiting with the spy in an off duty manner felt odd in itself. Let alone this deep concept discussion about good and evil._

_“It seems the battlements outside of our fortress have quieted down,” the spy noted, “Scouts, soldiers and heavy classes will be requiring your assistance rather quick here.”_

_The medic shook his head slowly, “They’ll avoid the clinic like the plague.”_

_“You don’t think any of them might have been shot? Or twisted an ankle?” the spy went on._

_“A bullet can be pulled out with a dagger and cauterized with heat on the blade,” the medic waved his arm dismissively, “And the scouts are known to walk off their ankles sprains. They’ll deal as they always do.”_

_“I see,” the spy sounded pensive._

_“Why do you ask this? You avoid my clinic most of all,” the medic turned back around to face the spy squarely. He was surprised to see that the Frenchman was standing closer to him than before._

_He had a relaxed poise to himself. His eyes were slightly narrowed, his nose slightly lifted, so that he looked very haughty and above the medic, despite being a couple centimeters shorter. One arm crossed over his chest, the hand tucking under his other arm, which tucked up against his side. That hand held the cigarette away from his body at a thirty-degree angle, letting the smoke waft and the ash slowly start to crumble to the floor._

_His eyes became drawn to the stick, as the ash began to fall to his pristine waxed floor. He felt outraged and horrified as the gray bits began to litter his floor. He was immediately pushed over the edge, as the spy absent mindedly flicked the butt with his thumb, sending more ash tumbling to the hardwood flooring._

_“No! NO!” he shouted, reaching to grab the spy by the throat, “Get it out! Out of my office! Out! Away with you!” He hardly realized that he was shouting in German as his hands clamped around air._

_The spy darted backwards, moving just out of range. He was strangely graceful and poise, as he moved without looking where he was going. He simply loped to the door, opening it wide enough to step through. He paused only for a moment, giving the doctor a complacent smile._

_“My apologies, doctor,” he stated, before he closed the door behind himself._

_The doctor stood there in the middle of the room for a long time. He was panting heavily, his face completely filled with heat. When he managed to compose himself, he looked down at the ash that was now under his boot._

_“Good gracious,” he muttered, as he went to fetch the broom and dustpan._

_As he swept up the debris, he felt a strange overwhelming calm. It was so quiet in the room that he had to start thinking to fill his mind with some form of sound. He realized now that the spy was right, all of the ringing of explosions and gunfire had stopped, leaving the room quiet and still, almost as if it had become a shrine of tranquility._

_It was a little awe inspiring, if only for the time being. Yet, it did not distract him from realizing what had just happened. It could not keep his mind from concocting more and more thoughts that would continue to make him bleed with the sensation of useless frustration._

_When he rose to his feet, he looked at the dustpan. He had been so angry to see his clean floors so dirty. It was a horrid feeling, but thinking about this felt even worse. He wanted to stop thinking about it but he could not help but compare those ashes to the many times he had blood, guts, piss and other sorts of vile entities splash across his floor. He was never angry before, because the floor became a casualty of incidence and the tragedy of his career, the only thing he would ever be known for._

_The night loomed on. The silence was a bit maddening but nothing the medic had not dealt with before. He had spent many quiet nights on his own toiling over his work. There was no reason he could not handle his work this night. It was the same as any night, just work until he could not work anymore._

_But, after the events of earlier, he felt something creeping up on him. It left him a strange sensation. It was like something sneaking up on him in the dark, just waiting to grab him by the back of the neck. He was slightly afraid of it, afraid that it would shake him and leave him helpless on the floor._

_As the minutes moved by and turned into hours, he felt his body grow heavy. It was a thick sensation that seemed to form a mass on his neck and shoulders. It materialized into a tenseness in his muscles and created a looming darkness in the back of his mind._

_A few footsteps came from the hallway, drawing his ear and his mind away from his work. “What now?” he muttered with disdain for whomever was disturbing him._

_He rose quickly from his seat at the workbench as the slender Frenchman appeared at the doorway. He took a hesitant step into the clinic. He proceeded with more caution as he removed his scarf from around his neck._

_“What do you want, spy?” the medic growled with irritation, “It’s late and I don’t have time for you.”_

_“I came because it is late,” the spy pointed to the clock, “And you are still awake.”_

_“As it is, my work is not done,” the medic rubbed his eyes._

_When he looked at the clock he found that it was only the second hour. They were supposed to leave in two hours. How had the time gone by without him? He was not sure how to get it back so he could rest._

_“And you should be asleep,” the spy stated, “As it stands, you have but two hours, but perhaps a cat nap will do you some good.”_

_“What does it matter to you?” the medic growled, “You have no point in being here, so just leave. Just get out. I’m tired. I’m tired of dealing with people. I’m tired of patients coming into my clinic without any idea that I’m already dealing with enough work on my bench.”_

_“I’m quite tired of watching you depressingly deteriorate,” the spy said, with a tone of despair, “I’m tired myself, but it seems you still have at least a friend that has hope in you. Other than myself, you have made very few friends.”_

_“You? A friend?” the medic’s mind felt like it snapped._

_He was dumbfounded at the mere suggestion. He rarely spoke more than two words with the spy. There were moments in passing, but there were no full conversations to establish any form of friendship or comradery._

_“You’ve lost your mind,” the medic started chuckling._

_“Don’t take me lightly,” the Frenchman suddenly appeared before him._

_In spite of his slender form, the spy was strangely intimidating. And as he loomed ever closer, he raised a butterfly knife from a hidden pocket to the medic’s throat, just below his chin. The medic leaned backwards but otherwise stood very still. He was all too wary of the man’s close combat skills to let his guard down._

_“What are you doing?” the medic asked quietly. No manner of planning would help him escape a spy’s knife._

_“I’m warning you,” the spy growled, “Go to bed. Just be done with what you were doing. Go to bed. Don’t get up until the fourth hour of the morning.”_

_“That is foolish,” the medic responded firmly, “I have to get prepared before that time!”_

_“Don’t worry about it,” the spy growled._

_“And if I miss the troops leaving? I have to be there and be on post!” the medic raised his voice._

_“I said don’t worry about it!” the spy pressed the tip of his blade to the underneath of his jaw._

_“If I’m not properly equipped and ready for leaving, then how am I supposed to fight in the battle?” the medic argued, with frustration. He would fight with every breath, in spite of the blade at his throat._

_“I said…” the spy leaned in closer. He was intimately close, drawing too close for comfort. “I said to go to bed and don’t worry about it.”_

_The medic grumbled softly in German. He was growing more and more frustrated with the man’s insistence. He glanced over his shoulder at the opened gadget on his workbench._

_“Don’t worry about it,” the spy insisted, sternly._

_“I’ve got two hours to finish fixing the medigun,” the medic argued._

_The spy grabbed the medic’s tie, taking a firm grasp of it. He twisted it once around his fingers, bringing his grip to the knot. He felt like the spy was jerking him by a dog collar._

_The medic took a deep breath as the spy drew closer. He was wary, more so than he had ever been. He was not so certain that this was his team’s spy anymore. He was growing suspicious that this was a spy in disguise, who thought he could outsmart the medic in some way, to get him off his guard just to put a knife in him._

_“I won’t be fooled so easily,” he growled, reaching behind himself for some form of weapon. He would not do so unless he was desperate, but in the face of such a danger, he was desperate for something to fend off the man. “You’ve given yourself away, spy,” he growled._

_“It’s late,” the spy glared down his nose at him, “You’ve lost your good senses with lack of sleep. That teamed with your aggressive mood lately…is not beneficial to the team. Come. I’ll lay you down.”_

_His attitude was almost completely changed. It was bizarre to see, directly in front of his face. As the spy pulled him by his tie, he was not sure whether he was desperate anymore, or rather curious._

_“Just behave,” the spy eased the blade off of his throat, as he drew the medic towards the side door that led to the small personal room, “I’ll not hurt you…as long as you behave.”_

_“M-my w-work is n-not done,” he stammered. He was amazed at himself. He was not sure what he was stumbling over his words for, he was not having a trouble with speaking English._

_“Just lie down and get comfortable for an hour or so,” the spy spoke calmly, as he led the medic to his bed. He nudged him towards the bed, his knife moving slowly away from his throat._

_“W-why are you doing this?” the medic paused to clear his throat, as the hand loosened on his tie enough for him to sit down._

_“You’ll die on the battlefield if you don’t get some sleep,” the spy closed his knife and put it away. He paused to release the medic’s tie. “Get some rest. I’ll see to your weapons. If I find you out of this room…or out of your bed…I’ll return,” with a swift motion he returned the knife to its intimidating pose, the tip touching the medic’s chin._

_“U-understood,” the medic looked down at the spy’s hand, warily._

_“Stay here,” the spy quickly returned the dagger to its place in his sleeve, before he left the room._

_The medic was left to the quiet room. He felt stunned at the predicament. The spy had led him into his bedroom to sleep, completely out of character and appearing without reason._

_He loosened the tie around his neck and looked up at the ceiling. He began to wonder what was going on and why the spy would pay so much attention to him. He had never paid much attention to him before, let alone given him so much interest._

_“Could this be a problem?” he asked himself, softly._

_He felt so stunned that he could not answer the question for himself. He could not even close his eyes, as the quandary drove into his mind. He could not decide just why the spy would be paying so much attention to him and give so much interest to him._

_“Can’t sit around and wait to find out!” he leaped from the bed and threw open the door.  
He found the clinic dark and quiet. All of the lights had been turned off, even the extra lamp at the work bench. The spy had gone about darkening the entire work space._

_“Why would he spend all that time on these?” he asked softly._

_He reached for the easiest light, pulling the cord to give the room a smidgen of light. It flickered for a moment before it brightened. He was thankful that it stopped flickering as he looked around the room._

_“Well, I’m glad I got back when I did,” the spy interrupted his thoughts._

_The words crawled up his spine with an alarming feeling. He spun to face the spy, as he stepped into the room. He was holstering a pistol beneath his jacket._

_“A-already? Y-you’re back?” the medic quickly searched for the first weapon._

_He did not have time to move before the spy was once again upon him. This time, one hand had him by the left side of his waist coat and the other lifted him off his feet by his britches. He was too surprised to notice just how the spy carried him to the examination table._

_“W-what are you doing?!” the medic exclaimed, as he felt the cold metal beneath him._

_“Putting you someplace you won’t cause trouble,” the spy said sternly._

_The medic knew exactly what was on the table and would not be brought down so easily. Panic raised his adrenaline and he used it to throw his hands at the spy, pushing the man away. He leaped from the table and bounded towards the wall of weapons._

_“No no!” the spy leaped after him, grabbing the back of his waist coat just short of the wall._

_“Release me!” the medic tried to kick him, but he did not connect._

_“I gave you something very simple to do!” the spy insisted, “And you cannot even do that!”_

_“You’re not tying me down!” the medic proclaimed._

_“Well, you’re going to get some rest, one way or another,” the spy insisted, pinning him to the cold floor._

_The medic twitched, his nose wincing. His cheek was pressed up against the unsanitary ground. It was disgustingly repulsive. Just the thought of it made him want to hurl._

_“If you could just handle a simple order, this would not be a problem,” the spy said, in a calm voice, “You’ll be better equipped in the morning, after you have had sleep.”_

_“I won’t be equipped with anything if my medigun is dysfunctional!” the medic exclaimed._  
_“You don’t need to worry about it now,” the spy insisted, “Alright? Just trust me. I’m your ally here. Just go to sleep and leave it be until morning.”_

_“I have but two hours!” the medic proclaimed, wriggling with frustration beneath the spy. He was unable to escape though, as the smaller frame managed to lock him to the ground effortlessly._

_“And that’ll be two hours and you will spend getting some rest, friend,” the spy insisted._

_“Fine,” the medic stopped, lying still on the floor._

_For a while, the spy was silent. He did not move, let alone release his arms. He seemed to be thinking, or making the medic wait for him, just for some sociopathic reason._

_“Are you ready to cooperate?” the spy asked._

_“Yes,” the medic said, with a disgruntled tone, “I’m going to cooperate.”_

_“Good,” the spy rose to his feet, letting off the medic’s back and arms._

_He hesitated, moving ever slowly. He did not want the spy to change his mind suddenly. Nor did he want him to get any ideas about what the medic was going to do. So far, he did not really have a plan to get out of this, he just needed to get up off of the filthy floor._

_Once he was on his feet, he paused to wipe his face off. He was rubbing his face on his sleeves. He normally would not do this, but he felt so disgusting, with a lingering memory of the cold concrete floor against his face._

_“Need a moment to clean yourself up?” the spy motioned to the sink on the medical counter._

_The medic lit up with excitement, both for the chance to clean up and the chance to get close to his tools. He immediately started towards the counter. He did not even respond to the spy, he just went for it. His mind wrapped around several ideas of what he could do, glancing over the tools that were within reach of his hands by the sink._

_“Well too bad!” the spy exclaimed, grabbing the medic’s tie and yanking him around._

_“Hey wait! Stop!” the medic exclaimed, as he was dragged into the bedroom._

_“You’ll go to sleep, now,” the spy pushed him onto the bed and slammed the door shut._

_The medic’s face grew hot as the spy turned to him. He folded his arms over his chest, as he looked down at the medic._

_“The point is that you lay down and close your eyes,” the spy insisted._

_“R-right,” the medic cleared his throat as he shifted his tie again. He would not undress or change in front of the spy, so he simply laid down on the bed as he was._

_The light turned off, but the door never opened. He closed his eyes, but he was listening for the spy’s leave. He was waiting._

_“Are you just going to be standing there?” the medic growled._

_“Yes,” the spy replied, in a stand-offish tone of voice._

_“Really,” the medic sighed, closing his eyes._

_He was not sure what else to make of it. His plans were shot. There would be no escape with the spy standing at the door. Even when he tried waiting for the spy to stop paying attention or doze off, nothing gave him the space to escape._

_“You really don’t make this easy,” the spy leaned back against the door._

_The medic could hear the man’s clothes whispering as he shifted, “You don’t exactly give off the aura of restfulness and trustworthiness.” Even so, sleep came easy to weary eyes._

Medic opened his eyes. He took a moment to process his thoughts. When he realized that it had been in a dream, he wondered why he was not more startled waking up. Perhaps he had become numb to these memory dreams. They did not horrify him as much as they used to. Maybe he was even more used to having scouts around and Lucien.

The scarf spy was sleeping with his mouth open, softly snoring. Both hands were rested upon his special scarf, hugging it to his abdomen. He wondered what brought the spy to treasure an article of clothing like this. He treated it better than most spies treated their masks.

He thought back on his dream. It did not offer him any answers, only more questions. The spy had called him friend, hadn’t he? He was sure he remembered that actually happening. He was also sure the spy had spent all of that energy fighting with him, just to get him into bed. Medic had been admittedly holding that against him. It was what led to him oversleeping and missing the initial vehicles. He had blamed the spy for his bad situation later.

Not that he was ready to apologize or anything, but maybe it was time to stop being so paranoid. As he took a breath and remembered that the spy was sleeping nearby, he reminded himself that this other man was a clone and a human. For all the distance they had traveled together, perhaps he could afford to give the spy just a little trust.


	16. Northern Facility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited March 10th 2020 for formatting errors.

As they trekked along the inclining path, the scouts ran out ahead. Medic watched them leave, for once feeling relieved to be alone with the spy. One part of his mind reminded him that terror was still in him. He reminded himself that he was faster than the spy, and if nothing else he could simply flee.

“So…we are going north?” he asked, hoping to open up conversation.

“Yes,” the spy replied curtly.

“Is there something particular we are going for there?” he turned his head to look at the spy.

The man was visibly chewing on his lip. His eyes remained down but on the path ahead of him, watching where he stepped. It did not seem like he was watching where he was going, but rather that his mind was preoccupied.

“You have been quite adamant about going north,” medic reminded him.

He studied the man’s face curiously. It was etched into his memory that clones of Gabin were just as rigorously paranoid as him, and thus wore masks. This man however left his face bare. It was better this way, medic thought. The clone had such a nice face, when he did not look like he was going for blood.

Gabin must have looked like this long ago. Not in his older age though. This was not Gabin though, as Gabin’s good looks were destroyed in his younger years. Wearing the same gray in his hair, Lucien carried what should have been Gabin’s beauty, and proudly bared it to the world.

Lucien’s eyes shot to him, “What are you looking at?” The sharp tone in his voice bespoke the crankiness that came from a bad night’s sleep and irritation at being stared at.

Medic could relate to not liking being stared at, but this time he thought he could at least absolve himself of guilt. “I am looking at your face,” he answered.

“It’s a face. You see it every day. Stop staring,” Lucien quickly turned his eyes to the path ahead. This time he looked up the path towards the scouts. “Brian! Skeeter! Don’t leave us behind!”

Medic took a breath, carefully deciding how to proceed, “I feel like I have only just looked at your face today.”

“What?” Lucien’s head spun to look at him incredulously. There were a few moments of silence, filled only by the rustle of their clothes and the scuff of their shoes against the rocky earth. “What did you say?”

“I see you face every day,” medic admitted, “But I only just looked at it today.”

Lucien rolled his eyes away. The rest of his face did not have the usual harsh lines that typically accompanied his looks of irritation. In fact, the medic could see a bit of rouge on his skin. The spy was blushing!

“It’s easy to forget, I guess,” medic finally relented and turned his eyes to the path ahead. The spy seemed to be uncertain about his gaze anyways.

“Forget what?” Lucien asked.

“I don’t know,” medic shrugged, “Everything? Anything? I never really thought of how different you are from Gabin until now.”

The spy harrumphed with the biggest puffed up chest. His jaw was visibly clenched and his arms were stiff. Both hands balled into fists as if prepared for a fight.

“Of course I am different from Gabin! I am not Gabin!” Lucien barked.

“I know that,” the medic replied, “It’s just hard to see that when you’re not looking.” He felt quite guilty now. They had been trying to sever their own identities from the originals and here he was comparing Lucien to the original spy again. “It’s not that I see Gabin,” he explained, “I just didn’t notice how much better you carry yourself than he does.”

Lucien stopped walking and at first medic kept moving. He finally stopped and turned to look at the spy. His eyes looked a bit widened as he stared back at medic. The silence was growing too thick for medic to handle though.

“We both remember he had a very scarred face,” medic started.

“Oh, that’s what it is,” the lines on Lucien’s face turned to a frown.

“No, if that were it, then every spy would remove his mask,” the medic explained, “The others are just as unmarred as you are…but they still hide because they cling to the same traumas that Gabin did. You let it go.”

Lucien raised a hand to touch the scarf draped loosely around his neck. It seemed that the scarf gave him a moment of comfort. He stood there in silence, looking down at the scarf instead of at the medic.

“It’s admirable,” the medic said, “I think…most of us clones haven’t really let go of anything…it’s all that we have left of what we see as our lives.”

Again there was silence. Lucien finally looked at the medic, lowering his hand from the scarf. All of the lines of his face had softened and his eyes were big.

“Of all of the spy clones…of all of _us_ I think you carry yourself the best,” the medic explained.

There was a sudden gleam in the spy’s eyes. He quickly rubbed his face with his gloved hands. Though this gesture made the gleam more obvious to medic. He was not foolish enough not to know what the gesture meant.

After a few more moments of silence, Lucien lowered his hands from his eyes, “Thank you.”

The medic nodded and as they proceeded, they went in silence. The medic did not look at the spy anymore. He just kept his eyes on the path ahead. They had already lost the scouts, but hopefully they would come looking for them eventually. For now, he felt confident walking alongside Lucien.

The day was uneventful. When they laid down to sleep, medic allowed himself to not worry about why the spy was lying down so close to him. Maybe it was a comfort for him.

_“If I made it any clearer, it would be called water,” Aurick jested._

_There was a long silence that followed. No humor in this work space it seemed. It was the saddest most boring space he had ever worked in. Honestly, he preferred the unsanitary conditions of his previous place of employment._

_“Just clarify,” his employer growled, “Can you or can you not make the serum’s properties permanent?”_

_“That depends on what you mean,” he was sure he understood what the man meant, but the other man tended to be a stickler for clarity._

_“I mean, can you make it permanent!” the man raised his voice needlessly._

_Aurick rolled his eyes, “You mean if you received the treatment once, could it keep you young forever? No.”_

_He could practically hear the other man seething behind him as he sucked through his teeth. He had been a very impatient and impractical man. This demand he was making was more impractical than anything else. Aurick suspected that the only reason he was still required to work on this project was that he wanted the impossible from him.”_

_“It is ridiculous that you think it would not run out,” he explained, “Eventually, one way or another, the body’s system would be rid of it. The symptoms of it would be gone. And you would be left to age as you normally would.”_

_“And not even an extension of this can be made?” his employer almost growled._

_“Well, as far as making it last longer, we have done our best. But I think at this point we have extended it to its maximum,” Aurick insisted, turning to face the other man._

_The employer was silent for a few moments. He was clearly seething with rage, his face turnin red and his hands clenched tight, “I would like you to confer with your partner on this.”_

_Aurick rolled his eyes, “Sure. I’ll confer with him on this.”_

_“I am serious!” the man barked, “Deliver, or else!” With that, he stormed from the room._

_Aurick was left standing in confusion. He shrugged to himself. There was nothing more he could do. Besides “or else?” Was the man a child?_

_He turned back around and resumed his work. He was far too busy to worry about what the employer thought of this project. If he wanted him to stop being busy long enough to talk to Randal about work, then he would have to fire him from the project._

_He was not expecting anybody else to come in. So, when the door opened, he was a little surprised. He turned his head to see Randal sidling in. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his work. Randal had not been of much help for this project for the majority of its progress. He had given up on relying on him anymore._

_“How are…how are things coming along?” Randal tried to make conversation._

_“Oh, you know,” Aurick tried to mostly ignore the other man’s presence while he worked, “The employer wants the impossible. You’re still being called my partner. I am losing my mind in this disgusting place.”_

_“What? So it’s my fault?!” Randal scoffed._

_“I’m sick of doing this, Randal,” Aurick said simply, “To put it simply, I’m tired of this project. I’m tired of these employers. I’m tired of this place.”_

_“You would rather go back to being a mercenary?” Randal asked hesitantly._

_“Yes!” Aurick shouted. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Randal’s mouth agape. He added in a quieter but firm voice, “Yes, I would.”_

_“Well, you can’t,” Randal’s tone held a firm spiteful malice._

_“What do you want, Randal?” Aurick rolled his eyes as he tried to pay more attention to the chemicals he was handling._

_“Well, the cloning project…has been…coming along slowly,” Randal admitted, “And we could use your assistance with a problem project.”_

_“What do you want me to do? Drop what I do and go do your project for you?” Aurick scoffed._

_“Not precisely but…” Randal’s shoes scuffed across the floor as he came to Aurick’s shoulder, “I really need your help. It’s important. Maybe important enough that I could convince the employer to take you off this project and come to the northern facility?”_

_Medic looked at him thoughtfully. He was sick and tired of this project. Mostly all he did was replicate the same thing over and over to the employer’s liking. It seemed he was easily able to hold onto the formula for it, and so they would keep him making it forever. He was not sure if he was willing to part with the actual instructions for it._

_“At least…at least for a little while? Maybe?” Randal suggested._

_Aurick set down the beakers and turned to Randal. He could really use a mental break from this project. As it was, it seemed to have been going on for the past few decades. He was not even sure if it had been months, years, decades or more. He only knew what he had been copying over and over for so long._

_“Please?” Randal pressed._

_Aurick ran a hand through his hair to push it back and stimulate his scalp, “Alright. If you can get them to let me off the project for a time. I will come with you to the northern facility.”_

_Randal’s face cracked into a smile. He threw his arms around Aurick’s neck, and inspite of protest planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. When he pulled away, he put his hands on Aurick’s cheeks, focusing his gaze._

_“I promise, you won’t regret it!” Randal insisted eagerly._

_Aurick sighed again, brushing the hands away. Randal ignored this as he spun around and fled the laboratory. Aurick turned slowly back to his work, realizing that he still had to copy the recipe again._

_Everything in his life was in a cycle of repetition. Whether it was this project or affections for Randal, he could not seem to make it stop. Maybe this time he could make it stop. Maybe this time he could turn things around. He just had to put his foot down once he was out of this project. He would have to work to keep Randal at arm’s length._

When medic woke he felt groggy. He rubbed his face with both hands and yawned. It felt as though he had not slept at all during dreams. He could still remember his dream, but he tried to push that away. That was just an Aurick memory. Or maybe it was made up, he could not tell.

He clambered to his feet and began stretching every limb in his body. He wished they had brought the equipment. They managed to get their hands on a medigun and they had to leave it all behind because of travel.

Lucien grunted as he pressed into his back. He joined the medic in stretching out, limbering up for the day’s trek. The scouts were already up and chattering wildly.

“So…” medic cleared his throat, “Northward?” It suddenly donned on him that in his dream or memory he had been going to somewhere up north. Maybe that was the clue that these memories were just made up. The dream was using what he heard, saw and did now to concoct fake memories. “I hope we’ll be breaking out of the desert soon.”

“We will,” Lucien assured him, “It’ll be a few days, since we are on foot. If we had a working vehicle…well…”

The scouts shared a united sigh. “Yea,” one said. “It would be a thousand times better and faster if we were in a vehicle,” the other said.

Medic bit his lip when his stomach suddenly growled. The reminder of having not eaten in a few days was a biting sensation. It was more frustrating, knowing that they had had a bounty of food that went bad in the vehicle they had before.

“We should get going,” Brian said, “The sooner we get going, the more ground we’ll cover.”

“Right,” Lucien agreed, though he looked a little unwell himself.

They traveled on in silence. None of them wanted to bring up what they were all thinking about. Medic tried his best not to think about it. He could already think of a few infections or ailments they could be getting by sleeping out here in the wilderness while hungry and thirsty.


	17. The Spy Who Would Not Be Broken

_The spy tossed the papers onto the desk. He watched as the new employer frowned at them, then looked up at him. There was a furrow in his brow as he tried to concoct a proper thought. It seemed these papers would have to be explained._

_“As you asked,” the spy explained coolly, “the dirt on Aurick Radlof. All plain as day right there.” He tapped a finger on the papers. He let a proud little smile slide across his face._

_“How did you manage to get these?” the employer opened the file and gawked at the myriad of pictures displayed before him._

_“It’s my work,” he explained, “Don’t question it.”_

_“Right,” the man took a breath before patting his pockets. He dug into the cupboards of his desk before he pulled a brown envelope from a drawer, “Here’s payment as promised.” He quickly slid the envelope across the desk._

_The spy picked up the envelop and began counting the bills inside. He frowned when it came up short. He took a breath, ready to use his words before his dagger to get the rest of his dues._

_“This is less than what was promised,” Gabin said sternly, “And considering what I’ve delivered, I was hoping for a bonus?”_

_“Bonus? Hah!” the employer barked, pleased with his own shrewdness._

_“Take a closer look,” the spy tapped a finger on the exposed pictures._

_His employer went silent as he began scanning over the pictures again. His face was incredibly close, his big nose comically near touching the black and whites. It was taking him a long time to figure it out. It was fine though, the spy could wait. He was a patient assassin. He was the best killer. He could spare the man an extra few moments to get him his due._

_“Is that…is that Randal? Randal Moser?!” the excitement and panic rose in the man’s voice. He suddenly picked up the pictures and rose to his feet, “Dr. Radlof _and_ Dr. Moser?” He turned his look of disbelief to the spy._

_The spy shrugged, “I have been tailing them for months now. The pictures depict exactly what they have been doing in that time. And then some that I will not go into details for the sake of your feint heart.”_

_The man opened and closed his mouth for a while. He was clearly in shock of this news. Given the insinuation of the intimacy of these pictures, he could tell the poor man was doing mental gymnastics with the thought of two men doing more than this together. Poor employer, but that was not the spy’s problem._

_“You owe me what you promised,” the spy held out his hand._

_Without a word, the employer began digging into pockets and drawers. He did not have the money ready and on hand. He dug through his wallet; he dug out another envelope; he dug through everything. Eventually he filled the spy’s hand with more money to fill out the amount that had been promised when they started this employment._

_“That will do,” the spy put a bit of a bite in his tone, to show he was disappointed in not receiving a bonus._

_“Spy,” the employer stopped him from walking away just yet._

_“Hmm?” he gave the man a questioning glare._

_“Stick around,” the employer was pale in spite of trying to gain composure, “You’ll get your bonus and then some if you keep a trail on Radlof.”_

_“What about Moser?” he questioned._

_The employer grinned. His smile split his face. It was a wicked grin if ever he saw one. He was unafraid of it, though he was sure his employer intended for him to be frightened._

_“Leave him to me,” the employer said with a hearty laugh._

_In his mind, the spy was already thinking of ways to handle his teammates. He had not really thought too hard about what to do about them. But ooh he would enjoy fucking up the doctor’s day after everything he had been through. Cut him open to try an experiment in his chest? Never again! The man would know vengeance at the hands of a master._

_The spy sat with his hands on his legs, just behind his knees. He stared at the floor between them. He was not sure how to feel about all of this. Mad? Sad? Frustrated? Freaked out?_

_The mantra had been enough to drive him crazy. Looking in a mirror had proven to him the facts. But this took the cake. Face to face with one of the mercenaries he knew from the team…well, that was just disconcerting._

_“Did you hear me, spy?” the medic’s voice came closer as he leaned over his knees. He folded his hands in front of himself, sharp blue eyes studying him intently._

_“Perfectly,” the spy replied, trying to feign calm in light of this very strange predicament._

_He felt this strange tension, like the man was about to snap and kill him. It would be warranted if he were the real Gabin. He still remembered what Gabin did. He did it to this man who had taken care of the team’s ailments for so many years. He did it to all of their teammates._

_“So you admit it then?” Dr. Radlof inquired, “That you are a clone? That you were made in this facility to serve its purposes?”_

_Well sure he could not deny facts. Things were spelled out fairly well for him. He could understand that he was truly not Gabin, not the Gabin from his memories anyways. Still, he could not give anybody here the sense of satisfaction to think they broke him. Dr. Radlof might be here talking to him, but that was just a last resort._

_“No, of course not, doctor,” he gave a playful laugh as he forced himself to make eye contact, “What a silly notion!”_

_The doctor’s expression did not change by much. He studied the spy’s face for a while, before writing something down on his clipboard. The silence made the scratching of the pen seem much louder than it was._

_He took a breath and leaned back. He could deny and deny, but even Dr. Radlof knew he was a clone. He knew he was not the real Gabin. There was nothing he could do to prove it, so he just had to keep up pretending that he could not be convinced himself._

_The man turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the one way window, “And your problem with this is…? He seems sane enough and competent enough.”_

_The spy’s heart began to race. This could spell horribly for him. All of his work of showing strong will and diligence had been working so far and was about to be flushed down the toilet. Of course Radlof of all people would see through him so easily._

_“You don’t see where this could be a problem?” a familiar voice came over the speakers._

_“No!” Dr. Radlof exclaimed._

_“Get in here!” the voice called over the speakers again._

_With a reluctant sigh, Dr. Radlof rose to his feet, “I’ll be right back. You stay there.”_

_The spy played at being relaxed, placing an ankle over his knee, “Where would I go?”_

_Dr. Radlof did not seem to question this for even a moment. He turned around and headed out the door. Left alone, Spy sat quietly and calmly. After all, they could probably see him through the one way mirror. He was not entirely alone here._

_He carefully measured his breaths. He did not want to give away any of his feelings at the moment. He was not sure what they were yet, but he did not want to be such a fool in front of these people. They would determine his future, as long as he was trapped within these walls._

_Though, despite the growing sense of being emotionally overwhelmed, he was more satisfied with sitting in the chair talking to Dr. Radlof about this than hearing some incessant voice over the speakers tell him over and over. He reasoned that he might have been more open to the idea if he had simply been approached by Dr. Radlof with the concept of cloning from the start. Easing him into it would have made the transition easier on his mind and easier to accept._

_Then again, it did not seem like Dr. Radlof was involved from the start. It almost seemed like they called him in to assist. He was sure if things were done Dr. Radlof’s way it would have been vastly different. Knowing the man’s keen sense of curiosity, he would have likely been more hands on with involvement, even with the danger of being threatened by an assassin._

_The door opened back up and Dr. Radlof returned. The medic cleared his throat as he made his way to his chair across from the spy’s chair. Spy remained silent, watching and waiting for signs of what was to come next. This situation could radically change depending upon what was said behind that dark glass._

_“So, you still believe you are Gabin?” Dr. Radlof inquired._

_The spy tightened his lips the way he knew the medic would recognize from the original spy, “Still believe I am me? Excuse you. I am not fooled by your tactics, doctor.”_

_The doctor’s eyelids drooped as he looked back at the spy, “You’re very persistent. I’ll give you that. You’re more resilient than your counterparts.”_

_The spy rolled his eyes for effect, “I am the original. Of course I would be more resilient! Your experiments are nothing compared to me!” This little bluff was kind of fun to bellow out like some prideful asshole._

_“And yet, the original would have found a way out of here by now,” Dr. Radlof informed him._

_The spy felt his face heat up. Of course the original spy would be thinking that he could escape such a place. The spy himself had been trying to wrap his own brain around escaping such a dungeon. Though, he was not sure if he could call the medic’s bluff about this or not._

_“What? No response? No witty banter? No comeback for the haughty pride?” the medic teased._

_“I am quite tired, Dr. Radlof,” he stated. It was true though and showed when he suddenly found himself yawning. “I do not find myself wanting to play mind games with a crazed German working for his enemy.”_

_Dr. Radlof took a deep breath and puffed up his chest. He looked like he had something to say, but he remained quiet for a while. They were both staring at each other for a few minutes of silence. They were both staring at each other for a few minutes of silence._

_“Perhaps rest before we continue then?” Dr. Radlof suggested at last._

_The spy was a little surprised at the suggestion. Normally the speakers treated his every waking moment as time to be bombarded by harassment about being a clone. Though, he was wary that he may just be returned to the same room with the same speakers saying mantras over his head._

_“Come,” the medic rose to his feet and started to the door, “I’m sure you’re very tired after everything.”_

_Dr. Radlof was already holding the door open and the spy had barely budged. He slowly lowered his leg as he hesitantly rose to his feet. He strolled across the room to the door and followed the medic into the hallway. He was silent as he fell into step with the other man. Their footsteps rang through the hall, giving them a prominent presence._

_“Am I correct in believing this is simply a return to the mantra of nonsense?” he gave the medic a small chuckle, trying to give off a haughty sense of pride._

_“Not at all,” Dr. Radlof replied._

_“Then tell me something,” he paused midstep to turn to the man. The other man stopped, tilting his head slightly as he studied the spy’s face. “What is Dr. Aurick Radlof doing working for his enemies? We both know well that you of all men have more reason than anybody to oppose this governmental organization. They would abuse you further if you let them. You’re letting them.”_

_Dr. Radlof’s features slowly tightened as he fixed the spy with a glare. There were a few moments of silence, studying each other like this. It almost seemed like Radlof was going to glare away the problem._

_“I know it wasn’t you, since you’re a clone,” Dr. Radlof’s tongue flickered out to wet his lips, “But you must remember what Gabin did to me. You do remember what Gabin did. You remember who was hurt and that Gabin was responsible for this.”_

_The spy opened his mouth to speak again, but decided against it. It was true, Gabin was the reason Dr. Radlof was here. The dirt he brought right to their enemy was enough to make him heel like an obedient dog. Furthermore, bringing Dr. Moser into the mix, Dr. Radlof’s closest, most trusted and most loved companion…_

_He shook away the thoughts. Empathy was not something a spy afforded. Gabin never afforded it. He certainly did not think about it when he was gathering all of that evidence. It was not hard either, given he was originally working alongside Dr. Radlof and team. Mercenaries by trade, a team like a family and men who held their own. They had too much pride to give into the government that had opposed them, but Dr. Radlof had more to lose._

_“If we’re done here, then let’s be off,” Dr. Radlof turned hastily and proceeded down the hall. The spy followed hesitantly._

_Looking back, he could believe that the real Gabin did this. He could believe that the man was cruel enough and separated from his emotions. However, the spy did regret all of this. If he could go back, he would have stopped Gabin himself, taken the information from him and burned it._

_They came to a door that Dr. Radlof opened and held for him. He paused, refusing to enter at first as he peeked into the room. It was suspiciously quaint, something that perhaps an old lady would sleep in. The bed was framed by iron that created leaflet shapes at the head board and foot. The mattress and pillows were covered by a quilt and a down blanket, all covered in floral designs, with floral pillows thrown at the foot. At the foot of the bed sat a chest, a light yellow wood that looked like it was made for children’s toys. On the wall beside the headboard was a small case of books with some knickknacks to decorate. On the opposite wall was a wardrobe carved from lacquered oak with scratches on the side._

_“Have a rest,” Dr. Radlof said, “I can imagine your time in the project has made you weary. I have a better plan in mind for you.”_

_The spy reached out, gently placing a hand on Dr. Radlof’s shoulder. The man flinched away, revealing a little of his biased fear of Gabin the spy. The spy took a deep breath, prepared to use his most authentic tone. He had to speak for the heart, even if he was speaking for Gabin._

_“I remember what I did, doctor,” he admitted in grave tone, “I will not deny what I did. Nor will I stand here and defend myself. I have done many awful things. Betraying the team should not have been one of them. I regretted what I did then. I still regret it now. Seeing you be kinder to me, even now…I regret it even more. You may believe what you may about me, but I did regret it.” He was putting all of his emotion into that tone, forcing the fib through his lips. He did regret it, but Gabin did not have a heart to regret with. “I only wish I could go back and change what I had done. I am sorry.”_

_The man’s face slowly changed. At first he seemed taken aback. Then he was confused. Slowly, his eyes took on an almost sad look. The spy could not guess at what it meant. He would have guessed that this was regret being reflected in Dr. Radlof’s eyes, but that did not seem right. The medic did not have anything to regret here._

_“Get some rest,” Dr. Radlof ducked his head and gestured in the door, “I will be around shortly to discuss further about your progress.”_

_The spy started in the door, pausing with a poignant stance. He turned slightly to look at the doctor again. When he caught Dr. Radlof’s gaze, he gave him an acknowledging nod._

_“Thank you, doctor,” he took one more step into the room and Dr. Radlof slowly closed the door behind him. He could hear the lock click, almost clear as day._


	18. Dancing on Eggshells

When the group woke, they proceeded as they were. They started their tramp going upward, as north seemed to slant towards the mountains. As usual the scouts moved on ahead, while medic and spy fell in step together. As boring as it was to remain silent, it was more exhausting to talk while on this journey. Everyone was relatively silent.

_“So, I presume this is the start of your treatment?” the spy gave a wry little smirk and a chuckle for emphasis._

_“I believe I understand why you are having a hard time with the transition,” the doctor explained, adjusting his little round glasses, “And I think I have found a better solution.”_

_“Oh,” the spy crossed a leg over his knee, with a very big grin, “Do tell. How are you going to brain wash me?”_

_Dr. Radlof gave him a pointed frown before looking at his clipboard, “You need to understand, spy. You are not Gabin.”_

_“But I _am_ Gabin,” the spy insisted._

_“No, you are not,” Dr. Radlof said sternly. He paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. At least he was being a generous professional by not yelling at him for being a very stupid clone. “Now, let’s start from somewhere,” Dr. Radlof’s voice was very calm. It would not have been out of character for him to have yelled at him for being pathetically stupid. “Uh…how about we start with where you were in the program. How did that go for you?” Dr. Radlof rested his clipboard and turned all of his attention to his patient._

_“Well, let’s see,” he began to explain what had happened to him. He told him about the room and all of the things that were said over the speaker. He gave a smirk whenever he shared little tidbits of things he noticed, things that other people did not know about._

_All the while, the doctor was uncannily silent. He was quiet and unmoving. His eyes were trained on the spy with studious attention. His face held no biased emotion, remaining calm like his voice had been. Whenever the spy looked to him for response, he simply nodded or gave some other silent gesture._

_Eventually, it seemed the session came to a close. Dr. Radlof calmly shifted his glasses and wrote some things down on his clipboard. He shifted in his seat as he looked back to the spy._

_“I think this is enough for one day,” Dr. Radlof said calmly, “You seem to have a decent rational understanding of the world around you. That is good. That will help with your progress. I think that you should try and get some rest. Perhaps with some sleep you will better understand.”_

_The spy pulled his brow down as he studied the medic’s face. The man was seriously dedicated this this calm temperament and the idea of convincing him that he was not Gabin. He wondered if he was truly one in however many other clones had been made. Perhaps he was the first and they had tortured him because they had not perfected the art of convincing. He wondered just how unique he was if they had not yet come to understand how to properly convince a spy of what he really was._

_Not that he needed any convincing. He was of sound mind, like the medic said. He understood what was happening and that he was considered a prisoner or perhaps even property. Somebody, or maybe many somebodies considered him to be property over being human. No matter though, because he could still be as convincing as Gabin that he was surely Gabin._

The sunset seemed to come early today. The sun was setting and their feet were tired from walking on this hard earth. It was enough to bore a hole in their stomachs, reminding them that they had been starving for days now.

The spy worried about how many more days this would take. Remembering the weather around the area, this could be a perilous journey. Perhaps they should not have headed north after all. Perhaps this was all a bad idea.

“Hey spy! Medic! Look at that!” a scout’s voice caught his attention. He raised his tired head to see Brian and Skeeter waving their arms to get their attentions. The medic seemed as tired he was when he looked at the scouts. “A mobile home!” Brian called.

“Wait for us!” the medic called, “It could be dangerous!”

Spy hesitated for a moment. Were they seriously considering approaching a mobile home? Somebody could be there. Then again, they had approached a likely heavily guarded facility in hopes of getting their hands on weapons. Considering the journey ahead of them, it would not be a bad idea to loot a loner’s pantry. If this person lived alone, they were far less of a threat.

“We should make this quick,” the spy said to the medic, “If we go in, we get food and supplies we absolutely need. We should not linger more.”

Spy glanced at the medic sideways. From this angle the man looked attentive. He was sure that the medic was likely tired though. If he agreed, he did not say anything either way.

The spy turned his attention to the mobile home, trying to get a better look at it. It had an electric blue band that went around the white vehicle. Between the four tires in the back were blocks to keep it from moving.

When they reached the spot where the scouts were standing, Brian and Skeeter turned their chattering to the two older clones. They practically bounced on the balls of their feet. If the spy ever cared to follow, he was not sure he was himself.

“What do you think?”

“Do you think it’s got people?”

“I bet there’s food and water inside.”

“Maybe a toilet.”

“Oh man! Yea! A toilet!”

“And running water.”

“Yea, you should wash your hands. You’re gross.”

“We will not be sticking around long enough for that,” the spy interrupted them. Finally the two scouts shut their mouths and turned to him. “We go in, steal some food and get out,” the spy instructed, “Staying too long will become a hassle we will regret.”

“It’s just a mobile home,” Brian argued, “Tanner always said these were usually used by people on vacation. One person or a small family at most. Rarely families. They are so difficult for families that it’s mostly people alone or a couple. We could take them easily! And if they want their kids safe, we just threaten the kids a little and scare them into being quiet.”

“That’s the worst idea,” the spy glared at him.

Skeeter was quick to interject, “Why? It seems pretty sound to me! We get in, rough them up a little-”

The spy quickly interrupted him, “We’re not roughing up little kids.”

“There might not be any kids,” Brian shrugged, “I mean, he did say it’s more common for an adult or two adults in a mobile home.”

“Man…that’s the biggest mobile home I’ve ever seen though,” Skeeter argued, “I’ll bet a whole family could fit in there.”

“Not Skeeter’s family,” Brian laughed.

“Enough,” the spy snapped, “We’re going in and getting immediately out. We grab food. Grab any water we can find. Then we get out. I that understood?”

“Who made you boss?” Skeeter grumbled.

“Yes, sir,” Brian spoke over him.

The medic sighed, “Think of it as grabbing unidentified intelligence. We’re unaware of what it is being contained in, but once we see it, we’ll recognize it.”

Skeeter’s eyes lit up and he nodded, “Got it!”

“Okay,” Brian said hesitantly.

“Let’s go,” the medic was the first to start towards the mobile home, charging at a fast walk.

Spy and the scouts followed suit, trailing behind him at his heels. The medic seemed pretty good at getting people to come at his heels, even the spy. Maybe it was a learned trait. Or maybe it was that he was weaker than Gabin was. That disgusting thought stung a little, but he had to admit that Gabin never felt the regret, hope or adoration that he had for medic.

_“I heard you looked in a mirror,” Dr. Radlof started the session, “I was wondering if you would like to talk about that.”_

_The spy cleared his throat and donned a confident smirk, “If we must.” The reality of his face had been itching at the edge of his mind for a while._

_The medic looked own at his clipboard and chewed on his lip for a while. He slowly raised his head again and looked to the spy. “When you were first given the mirror, how did you feel?” he asked. He had taken up the habit of asking how he felt about things. It was almost laughable, but it had become a comforting sort of mantra._

_“When I picked up the mirror? I was a bit baffled. I thought it was very silly,” he chuffed a little laughter. It was starting to become clear that he might have to lie harder now than he ever had before. The medic was about to start prodding at that part of his experience where he had actually accepted who and what he really was._

_“What happened?” the medic pressed._

_The spy took a careful deep breath as he prepared to regale him with a story riddled with holes and half-truths. “Well, the speaker dared me to remove my mask. He was quite defiant, insisting he already knew my identity and thus there was no point in hiding.” He gave the medic a weak smile._

_The medic nodded in response, “I am well aware of the real reason Gabin wore his mask. Go on.”_

_The spy made his eyebrow twitch for good measure at the mention of the name in third person, “Well, something he said…got to me.”_

_“What did he say?” the medic inquired._

_“I do not recall,” he lied. He was not about to give the medic any ammunition or anything to suggest that he knew he was just a clone. “But it made me realize that a way to prove I was real was to show my face,” he gestured to the medic, “My scars…I’m sure you’re aware of them.”_

_“From what I heard, you were in shock,” the medic went on._

_From there, I had to piece together what had happened,” the spy held his hands outward before gesturing to his face, “This much cosmetic surgery? Just to make me handsome enough to pass for my younger self while I’m still this old? Please.” He let out a laugh as he bluffed. He had been concocting this lie for a while now, ready to explain away the moment he looked into the mirror._

_“But you were quite shocked, were you not?” the medic persisted._

_“Well, sure I was,” the spy replied with a nod, “Wouldn’t you if somebody had done work on _your_ face?” He paused to study the hard line of Dr. Radlof’s square jaw. “Not that you need it with a face that beautiful,” he did not even think about his words before they slipped right off his lips._

_He had not thought about how handsome Dr. Radlof was before this. Gabin used to think about it but in a manner of jealousy. He was the kind of man who could be enraged by petty things. And in a petty way, the betrayal was Gabin’s punishment for Aurick Radlof’s good looks._

_But looking at him now, the spy could not say he was jealous. His own face could have been mangled and he was not sure he could be that jealous. In fact, there was something quite nice about looking at the medic’s face. He was pleasing to the eye. It was a wonder he settled for a chubby ugly nobody like Dr. Moser._

_“You think my face is beautiful?” the medic looked and sounded a little amused by this._

_The spy’s mind was reeling from all of this. This and a thought that caught his attention. It told him to stop and wait. It told him to back up a bit. It pointed to the moment early in the session where the medic mentioned Dr. Moser. He had brought up Dr. Moser when discussing the _project_ that the spy was a part of._

_The spy opened his mouth, wanting to demand information about Dr. Moser’s involvement in this project. Dr. Radlof was speaking right over him. “You think I’m dashing?” the medic’s voice was toying with him. He was grinning gleefully. And all the while, he rested his chin on the backs of his hands. The lowered level of his eyelids bespoke of smugness._

_The spy had only so long to recover from this fumble, “But of course.”_

_This caused the doctor to tilt his head. His smile shrunk a little bit but it never left his face. “Oh? You think I am good looking? And you think this is rationally the same as what Gabin would have said?” the medic’s tongue was dripping was challenge._

_Fortunately for the spy, he was ready for this challenge. He was about to take it head on. It took everything in him not to giggle and smirk about it. Instead, he raised his eyebrows every so slightly and tilted his own head._

_“Of course, before this I _never_ would have told you to your face. I could never have admitted I was jealous of you,” he admitted, fitting a piece of the truth into this lie._

_“Then you admit it,” Dr. Radlof went on, “Gabin would not have, yet your thoughts are much different from his.”_

_“No,” the spy lowered his eyelids in a glare, “I am saying that things have changed. Look at me now!” He put on a wide grin and gestured to his masked face. “I’m more gorgeous than ever!”_

_There was a long silence, with the spy smiling and gesturing to himself with the most awkward attempt at being boastful as he could manage. It did not suit him though as he found he did not like pretending to be this level of superficial._

_“I’m sorry, I guess I just don’t see it,” the medic shook his head._

_The spy took a moment, blinking at the medic. He was not sure what he meant by that. Perhaps he meant that as a way to burst the _bubble_ the spy’s mind was in. It was no matter for the spy, since it was not real._

_“I’m sorry? What?” he asked gently._

_“I suppose with the mask on…I cannot quite see that you’re any different,” the medic explained, “Nor can I see anything changed about your face. Facial reconstruction? Really?”_

_“Ah, right,” he reached up with one hand to touch his mask. It was so integral to his life. While he had learned to discard it easily in the project room, he suddenly found it very hard to want to take it off in front of Dr. Aurick Radlof. “I forgot that I am still wearing the mask.”_

_“Would you be comfortable to remove it?” the medic suggested._

_“Well…” the spy glanced at the clock and realized that it was the perfect time to bring the session to a close. Only about five minutes left, but he did not care about five minutes. “Perhaps next time, doctor?” he gestured to the clock, “We are close to the end of our session and it does not seem like the appropriate timing for some sort of break through.” He chuckled at that._

_The medic glanced at the clock. He raised his eyebrows before looking down at the watch on his wrist. He had not been keeping track of the time either it seemed. He must have forgotten that this was a factor in all things. No matter as he turned back to the spy._

_“Alright, if you would prefer to keep the mask on during the last minutes of our session, that would be fine,” Dr. Radlof replied, “Would you be willing to remove it during our next session?”_

_“Of course,” he responded without thought._

_Red flags went up in his mind. His head was blaring with alarms. His alert thoughts were telling him that this was bad and he should not have said this. This could only turn out badly and every part of his defenses knew it._

_“Next time,” he assured the medic._

_“Until next time then,” the doctor rose to his feet with his words._

The spy was roused by a hand shaking his shoulder. He was not sure when he closed his eyes. He just knew that a man was hovering above him and he was on hard solid ground. He did not remember lying down or sleeping or anything of the sort.

“What?” he managed to mutter as he finally sat up.

He heard scuffling in the dirt nearby. He was not sure what was going on or why. He just knew the pain in his head. It shot from the upper backside of his head and left him reeling. It fooled him into thinking he could barely breathe.

“Spy?” the voice of Aurick Radlof came from over his head.

“What?” he repeated quietly. He wanted to reach out to Aurick Radlof. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry about everything. He wanted to be sorry for himself and for Gabin too.

A hand patted the side of spy’s face, “Spy, look at me.”

He finally looked straight at the face as his vision cleared. He was looking at the face that was unmistakably Aurick Radlof’s face. He had those same bushy eyebrows, that square jaw and those studious blue eyes. Then he reminded himself that this was merely a clone of Aurick Radlof, a copy of the man he met after Gabin’s betrayal.

“Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?” the medic held up his hand.

“Three,” the spy replied. The hand shook and this time the spy said, “Two.”

“You’ll be fine,” the medic took his hand and pulled him right off the ground to his feet. He needed a few moments to reorient himself on his feet.

He turned to see the scuffle as the scouts pinned down a man. The man was putting up a strong struggle, but was not quite strong enough against two lean men who had better leverage. Face down in the dirt, he was very unrecognizable, yet his clothes were so different from anybody they had seen in the city.

“What…just…” he took a minute to process what must have happened.

“Sneaky bastard thought he could sneak up on us and kill us!” Brian exclaimed while straining.

“Thought you could get the better of me? Huh sniper? Think again!” Skeeter suddenly began wailing on the man’s head, throwing punches that no doubt hurt against the hard ground.

With a quick glance around, the spy found the man’s weapon. He grabbed the rifle and passed it to medic, before holding onto the machete. Having both of these important weapons secure, he then turned his attention to the assailing scouts.

“Let off him,” he grabbed the younger mercenary’s flailing arm.

“Let go of me!” Skeeter began jerking away.

“Skeeter, stop,” the spy commanded, “He’s not the same sniper. He’s not your fight. Get up.”

Skeeter quietly got to his feet. When Brian could not hold the man alone, as weak as he was, even for a scout clone, he let the man go and clambered to his feet. They circled around him though, making him feel trapped and surrounded.

“Bloody clones,” the man growled. As soon as he was on his feet and raised his face to the spy, spy knew exactly what he was looking at.

He did not let on his surprise. He just started toying with the extremely sharp blade in his hands, “Ah, Mr. Michael Mundaris, I presume?”

The named mercenary snarled at him, “So, I take it you lot are out here hunting for us? Good luck. You mangy lot don’t stand a chance against the rest.”

“The rest?” the spy questioned, slightly lowering the weapon, “I think you misunderstand us, Mr. Mundaris. We are not here hunting you. We are on our way to a northern facility.”

“Nothing but abandoned government lots up there,” the man responded, “Anything worth looting has already been looted.”

“As far as you know,” the spy argued.

“As far as I know? Yes, and there’s nothing left,” Mr. Mundaris replied.

“Thank you for the,” he paused to touch the back of his head, “Bump…you gave me.”

“Kind of didn’t recognize a snake from behind,” Mr. Mundaris said pointing to the spy, “Except these two numbskulls are clearly clones.” He gestured to the scouts. He then turned to the medic, “What the hell happened to your hair?”

The medic looked taken aback. He might have forgotten already that his hair was currently a golden color. The spy did not care for how terribly it had turned out, but it was what it was.

“It does not matter,” the spy stated, “We just need provisions and we’ll be on our way.”

“And you think you can just take mine?” Mr. Mundaris growled.

“I don’t think,” he watched as Skeeter creeped behind him with a rock upraised. Ever the clever mercenary, it seemed this Skeeter was more on his toes than the original Skeeter. “I know,” he stated, just before Skeeter slammed a rock into the back of the man’s head.


	19. The Lucien Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medic dissociates into some very old memories.

“Oh good, you got a weapon,” Brian stated as Skeeter began dragging the unconscious sniper.

“Shut up and help me!” Skeeter exclaimed.

Medic watched as the scouts grabbed the sniper’s arms and dragged him towards the mobile home. He turned to the spy, who was touching his head with one hand and hefting the machete with the other.

“You don’t want to simply kill him?” he inquired.

Lucien took a breath and lowered his hand when he realized that the medic was looking at him, “No. There’s clearly a delineation from a normal sniper clone.”

“He’s the original,” the medic nodded in agreement. Sure he was the original, but that did not make him more important than the clones.

“He may also be of use to us,” Lucien gestured to the mobile, “Perhaps we can use this mobile instead of just looting it.”

“You didn’t think of that before?” medic frowned. It was annoying to think that an obvious solution might be overlooked.

“I was expecting civilians to be left alone,” Lucien explained, “This is _the_ sniper.”

“I don’t see how that is important,” the medic argued, “He is just a sniper. No more nor less than any of his clones.” Seeing the spy hesitate to kill this original mercenary made him bitter at the thought that this clone would definitely spare the original Aurick.

“Let’s start with gathering information,” Lucien gestured with the machete towards the mobile.

The medic said nothing more as they proceeded to the live-in vehicle. The door opened easily and they clambered up the steps into something he had never seen before. He expected something very small and dingy. He was not expecting fancy gray throw pillows and silver edged blankets. It was not too fancy but enough to lose him any words. This mobile home was very nice.

“Let’s have a look around,” Lucien suggested, “Just be wary of booby traps. The sniper was always a wary man and a clever one at that.”

The medic proceeded towards the opposite end of the mobile home, “You think he would have-” He cut off as a door slid open and he came face to face with a man with goggles over his eyes.

“Leave nothing without overturning it,” Lucien said, not yet seeing the company that the medic saw.

Panic struck the engineer’s face, but before he could grab a weapon, the medic raised his weapon, placing the barrel’s end at the engineer’s forehead. It was intended for long range shooting, but it could be just as deadly at a point blank range. He glared down at the man pointedly.

“Don’t move, and I won’t pull the trigger,” he growled in warning.

“Are you threatening me?” Lucien exclaimed. He could hear the spy turn around before he gasped in surprise.

The medic stepped aside slightly to let Lucien see who it was, “He had company.”

“He…where…where’s the sniper?” the engineer demanded. His voice was hot with a broiling temper tantrum the likes only an engineer could brew.

“Calm down,” the medic pressed the gun to the side of his head to remind him of his predicament. He did not want to deal with how quickly physical the engineer could become when he was thrown into a rage.

“You calm down!” the engineer barked at him.

“Mr. Munaris is outside,” Lucien stated calmly, “He’s fine…aside from a minor concussion. He’ll be fine.” Lucien was fiddling with the blade again, as if showing off how close he was willing to come to slicing his own hand open and not caring about the pain.

The engineer looked at the spy, then he looked at the medic. He gave a chuff of a chuckle, “What happened to you? Clones coming out wrong nowadays?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” the spy’s voice held a tone of warning.

“You seem pretty normal,” the engineer gestured to the spy, “Though, I’ll admit, I don’t know spy’s hair color. You might be a pair of deformed freaks for all I can tell.”

Boiling rage rose towards the surface. He pressed down on his anger, pulling his finger away from the trigger of the gun. He kept it defiantly pressed to the engineer’s head as a reminder.

“We’ll be commandeering this vehicle,” Lucien stated, “And you’ll be giving us any information you have.” That seemed pretty vague for a request of information.

“What makes you think I’ll talk?” the engineer glanced up at the medic warily.

Lucien chuckled haughtily, “Because, Mr. McInery you have no choice.”

Without warning, the engineer flung himself forward to punch Lucien in the face. The medic tried to grab him before he realized that that was a mistake. He managed to grab a better hold of his gun and slammed the butt into the back of his head. The engineer was stunned but nowhere near unconscious as the sniper had become.

“You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that, boy!” the engineer turned to him with a blood thirsty grin, “Called your bluff!”

Without warning, the medic was next to be tackled to the ground. He threw up his arms to block his face, but a barrage of punches assaulted his ribs. He found himself trapped under another body, slammed down into over and over. It was terrifying to suddenly be back in war.

_“Ah! Monsieur Radlof!” the spy’s familiar voice caught his ear._

_He frowned at the man, “It’s Dr. Radlof. I am a doctor. I always have been a doctor.” He let him hear his disdain but held back just how irate he was._

_“Surely you can spare a minute for an old friend?” the spy’s tone was so coy and innocent. It was just how it always had been._

_“Old friend?” Aurick turned to the spy with his lip twisted up in disgust, “Old friend! You are the worst man I have ever met! Worse than my enemies! You betrayed me – betrayed us! Now look! Where we are? And here you are thinking you can waltz in here with your cat and-” He cut off and looked at the strange ginger cradled in his arm. “Is that a cat?” he pointed to the animal in almost disbelief._

_“I find animals to be very soothing,” the spy allowed himself to pet the cat’s head. The animal responded with purring but gave no other sign that it had been disturbed._

_“You need to be soothed?” Aurick teased in spite._

_I thought perhaps you did,” the spy set the cat down to trot off to a chair to lay on, “Since you are so volatile towards somebody simply doing his job.”_

_“I would hardly call betraying your employer’s other employees being _doing your job_, spy,” Aurick argued pointedly._

_“Fine then,” the spy shrugged, “We are coworkers again now. And they have required me to work here.”_

_“Work here?” Aurick glanced around his homey makeshift lab, “For what? What would a spy do here?”_

_“If it is not obvious, then I will explain it and save the trouble of the so-called betrayal,” the spy sauntered over to a chair to sit in it, “I was sent to watch you. I’m to keep an eye on you. I’m here as an old colleague, but I am here as a spy.”_

_Aurick tightened his lips. He had never thought the spy would ever be straight forward about his work. It seemed counter intuitive to his job. Telling him this would give him the chance to be more wary about their discussions. Not that he was not already wary of what they were doing. It was the spy’s fault that he was stuck here after all. It was the spy’s fault their true alignment was losing this war._

_“You wanted to know, and now you know,” the spy added, “Take heart, I don’t intend to do anything brash like reporting you.” The spy reached over to touch the ginger again. It was strange that he made this gesture, an intimate and almost homely kind of gesture from a man who kept himself cold and distant from others._

_“Now I know,” Aurick muttered as he glared the cat in its narrow green eyes._

Medic took a deep breath. He had not lost consciousness. That seemed to be in his favor. He had lost the fight though. He was in pain and curling up on the floor. Nearby he could hear shuffling and scuffling, along with the door opening. He did not bother to look up or try to intervene. He was trying to focus.

His head swam as the overwhelming pain in his ribs made him tremble. He took careful breaths. They needed to be deep enough to be fulfilling, while not too deep to hurt. The pain hurt a lot and he was sure there were some broken bones. The engineer could be a mad dog when it came to fighting, he had been fully expecting the powerful punches when the engineer came at him. That did not mean he had any chance of escaping those punches.

_“And his head rolled off! Just like that!” Aurick proclaimed with a wild cackle. He was just finishing off a story when the clock caught his eye. Ah, he should get back to work. He was luckily not restricted by time itself, but he did have a quota to fulfill. As long as he fulfilled that quota, he would be fine. He could sit for another ten minutes._

_“You never change, doctor,” the spy sipped his glass of water. His free hand rested on the ginger cat in his lap. The lazy round thing hummed deep in its chest._

_Aurick took a sip of his own water before returning his gaze to the cat. “Spy? I’ve noticed you bring that cat with you everywhere now,” he noted aloud, “What significance does this animal have to you?”_

_The spy paused. He took another sip of his water before setting the glass down again. This time he rested two hands on the cat. The cats eyes closed as the fingers pulled gently over its fur._

_“It is a pet I have acquired,” the spy explained, “I haven’t had a pet before this. I always considered the little beasts to be…grotesque?”_

_Aurick tilted his head. He was not particularly interested in cats. He preferred birds. He still missed the flock he had flying around his old medical lab. People called them a hazard and rats with wings. He thought they were just the best companions during times when he needed encouragement and inspiration._

_Pets in general were probably the key. If the spy had never owned a pet before, then no wonder he thought they were grotesque. Aurick was sure that if he too had a cat, he would grow to enjoy its company. Though, he had never considered that the sociopath before him had any capacity to care. Yet here he was, sitting and listening to stories. Here he was, calmly stroking a cat for no other reason than to please the cat._

_“It has…grown on me,” the spy admitted, “I like its purring.”_

_Aurick gave an affirmative grunt, “Pets can be fulfilling companions. They never talk back. They never judge what you are doing. And they do not question moments of self-preservation.”_

_The spy nodded slowly. His hand was still gently pulling on the cat’s fur. It was the most intimate and gentle touch Aurick had ever seen from the spy. Though, perhaps that was because he was just used to being on the blade end of the spy’s missions._

_“I should be going,” the spy shifted, lifting the cat off of his lap with one hand._

_“So soon?” Aurick jested as he too rose to his feet. He should get back to work now, despite being so intrigued with this change in displayed behavior from the spy._

_“Yes, unfortunately,” the spy sighed, “I have other work to be done with. But for now…” He paused, turning to face the medic squarely. There was a furrow to his brow beneath the skin tight mask. “Medic, be careful.”_

_“Careful?” Aurick barked a laugh, “Since when do you care of mine or anyone else’s wellbeing?” In truth, he really did want to know as it seemed closely linked to this cat._

_“They want to dispose of you,” the spy explained, “Once they have your final formula, that is.”_

_“What?” his hackles stood on end. He understood the warning and who would be coming after him. He had been holding out on his employers, providing him only with the product and never the recipe to make it._

_“I am not sure about how they will go about it,” the spy gently shifted the cat to be held in a comfortable position, “They may send an assassin.” He finally looked at the medic again, brow still furrowed. “Be careful.”_

_“Before you go…you never told me the cat’s name,” Aurick asked, “I had been wondering if it was a male or a female. If you gave it a gendered name, I’d assume that would tell me.”_

_The spy chuckled in amusement, “Always the curious one. Very well. His name is Lucien.”_

_“Lucien…” Aurick studied the cat curiously. This must be some special cat to change a man like the spy._

_The spy turned and left without another word. Aurick was left to mull this over, wondering what could have made the spy so different. Maybe it was just the concept of having a pet. Animals could be easier for people to connect to when they were so disconnected from humans. Having the cat around could be allowing the spy to break down his barriers and allow the medic to see him in a vulnerable state. Maybe. Or maybe it was all a ploy for Aurick to let his guard down._

“Medic, are you alright?” Skeeter was kneeling by him, with his hands on his shoulder. He winced a little, not wanting to be touched.

“Probably some broken ribs,” Lucien commented, “Let him get over the shock. Find out what they have. Maybe these idiots kept some form of medical kit lying around.”

“You won’t find anything useful,” he heard the engineer said.

“Sure sure,” one of the scouts said. Skeeter was rising to his feet so he was sure it came from Brian’s direction. “Say whatever you like,” Brian said.

“Doctor?” Lucien inquired softly. He did not move to come closer though.

“I’m fine,” the medic let out weakly, “Just a few broken bones.” He managed to let out a painful little laugh.


	20. On the Couch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have edited previous chapters, as I misspelled the Original Spy's name many times.

The vehicle rumbled and bumped over everything. Medic could feel each time the vehicle practically jumped over what must have been small rocks and sticks in the road. It was worse than when his patella was injured.

“You doing alright, doc?” Skeeter asked.

It felt strange having the scout at his side now. He had grown used to Skeeter ditching him for the same-faced companion. It seemed to be a long time since they actually stood close together and looked each other in the eyes the way friends do.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

“You look pretty pale,” Skeeter unscrewed the top off a bottle of water, offering it to him. He accepted the water, disregarding his own ability to pick it up, since he did not want to move. “You sure you’re not bleeding or anything? Like…he didn’t hit you in the kidney?”

Nearby there was a laugh, “Nah!”

Skeeter’s head whipped around to glare at the engineer, who was chuckling to himself. It was strange to think that it was so long ago that Aurick had been working alongside the engineer more closely, while glaring at the scout. The tables had turned around quite a bit.

“He’s just not used to pain,” the engineer taunted, “That’s what it feels like to be in a real fight, boy! You’d’ve learned that on the frontlines!”

“We’re off the frontlines, dumbass,” Skeeter spat indignantly.

There was a familiar groan. The medic turned his head towards the sound. He realized it was the sniper slowly waking up, so he just turned his head away.

“Probably defective,” the engineer said.

The medic turned his head to look at the balding man. He had more lines than he used to. He was rougher and more ragged. He was not the same man as his clones, nor the man that Aurick remembered.

“The fuck did you just say?” Skeeter rose to his feet and spun to face the engineer. The aggression implied in his movements startled the engineer for a moment.

“I was uh…” the engineer gave a crooked smirk and a half-hearted laugh. He was tied down and at the mercy of the scout, and he realized that well enough. “Well, it’s clear from the hair color,” the engineer explained, “Anybody with half a brain knows Aurick had black hair. Probably just the most obvious of a slew of problems.”

When he realized what the engineer meant, the medic turned his head the other way. Ah defective clones. He was not sure he had heard of such a thing. If there were defective ones, then they certainly would not have gone to the frontlines.

Oh wait! There was one. If he thought very hard, he could remember one clone who thought he was so deceptively clever that he had fooled Aurick himself. Aurick found it humorous to keep the clone around, and he was pissed at Dr. Moser anyways, so why not…

The medic frowned. Something did not add up about his memory. Something in the details did not fit right. Aurick had been pissed off at Moser, but he could not have been that mad while they were working together on cloning.

“He already knows,” the engineer’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Turning his head away in shame.”

Medic looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “Dummkopf.”

“Come again?” the engineer called for his attention.

He looked at the engineer who was half pissed about his situation and half giddy at pissing off his captors. He rolled his eyes and said, “It’s dye.”

“It’s what?” the engineer lost a bit of the luster in his expression, looking more confused.

“It’s hair dye, Dummkopf,” he growled, “If you were any more attentive to how poorly the color set, you would have noticed that it is not natural.”

The engineer stared at him, slack jawed. If he had anything to say, he did not express it. He just stared, as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

“Look who’s the stupid one now,” Skeeter kicked the engineer in the leg.

“Don’t!” Brian barked.

“Why?” Skeeter turned to the other scout clone.

“Just don’t,” Brian said sternly, “There’s no reason to.”

The engineer laughed and shook his head. He looked up at Skeeter, “Your friend over there seems a bit out of place.”

Skeeter dropped to one knee and grabbed the front of the engineer’s shirt, “You wanna run that by me again? I’m warning you. You don’t want to do that.”

“It’s the weaker ones, son,” the engineer said, “They find one that defective, they’re gonna terminate it. If you care about your friend, then you best hope you don’t get caught.”

“The fuck did you just say about him?” Skeeter gave him a shake.

“He’s-” before the engineer could get it out, Skeeter gave him a strike across the jaw.

The scout clone reaffirmed his grip on the man’s shirt and pulled him closer to his face, “Listen here, _buddy_. You’re the one in ropes. And if you don’t want your situation getting worse, then you’ll keep your damn mouth shut!”

“Scout,” the medic called for his attention, “leave him alone.”

Skeeter took a breath and released the engineer’s shirt. He rose from his knee and returned to the medic’s side. Medic did not find it as much of a comfort anymore. He just wanted the vehicle to stop moving and for him to be left alone to sleep.

“Huh,” the engineer decided to speak again, “A truck full of defectives. Interesting.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Skeeter growled.

“I got a lot of knowhow on what I’m talking about,” the engineer argued.

Medic wanted to be anywhere but here. This was starting to grow intense in his head. In fact, he began to feel immense pressure on his head. It began to ache terribly. If it would not cause such extreme pain in his broken ribs, he would have raised his arms to rub his temples, but he did not want to do that right now. He did not want to move a single muscle in his body.

_Dr. Aurick Radlof watched as Dr. Randal Moser read over his notes. It was a terribly irritating process of the man controlling his own project by taking whatever Aurick had found. He remembered back when they used to work together so intimately. It had been so long since then, so long since he had been transferred from this cloning project to the other project. Being back here felt like a very bitter return to a toxic relationship. Even if they were not romantic anymore, he could feel the seething in their professional relationship._

_“What does it mean?” Dr. Moser showed him the notes while pointing._

_Aurick leaned forward onto the balls of his feet as he peered at the notes. He adjusted his glasses as he read it over. The memory of the recent discussion jumped back in, fresh and ready for him to recall each important point._

_“Gestures too casually when he speaks,” he read aloud._

_“I know what it says! What does it mean?” Dr. Moser demanded._

_Aurick rolled his eyes. The frustration of dealing with this man was already getting to him. It was bad enough thinking about all the harm that had been done between them. Now he had to deal with the man acting like a little brat through everything they did here. And all of this was a favor from Aurick to Dr. Moser. He was stepping in to _help_ with what was supposed to be Dr. Moser’s project._

_“He is more casual with his expressiveness than the original spy,” he explained._

_“Why are you taking notes about that? Who cares if he’s casual?! That’s not what is important here!” Dr. Moser raised his voice gradually._

_Aurick sighed and rolled his eyes. It seemed they would start another argument. Dr. Moser would think he won. Aurick would have to walk away with nothing but the knowledge that Dr. Moser was a childish idiot._

_“I need to know how to break him!” Dr. Moser shouted at him._

_Aurick casually scratched his ear and shrugged. He was just about fed up with the man’s outrageous temper. He wished he could file his own request to be transferred back to the lab he had been working in before. Then again, if he left he would not have the opportunity to study this spy clone._

_“Nothing you have given me has shown me how to break this case,” Dr. Moser tossed the notes aside as if they were useless._

_Aurick gathered up the notes, gently stacking them together, “You’re too stubborn.” It occurred to him that Dr. Moser did not realize what was actually happening._

_Oh the clever little spy was very devious. He was just as clever as ever he remembered the previous spy to be. Except, perhaps Aurick had wizened up to the old spy. This clone here could not fool him about knowing the truth. He could not be broken because he already knew that he was not the real Gabin. He knew the truth about himself, and he was diligently using whatever skills and willpower he had left to keep himself alive._

_“We have a job to do,” Dr. Moser grumbled as he watched Aurick stack the papers together._

_Aurick shook his head a little. He should have just told the man what was going on. He should have just led in with that, instead of letting Dr. Moser snatch all of his notes away. He should be informing him that there was no need to break that which would bend and sway to the pressure._

_“No,” Aurick decided he was not going to tell him. If Dr. Moser was too stubborn and stupid to see it, then he would not inform him of it. “_You_ have a job to do,” he informed the man, “I have my own projects to fulfill.”_

_In this, he decided that Dr. Moser could fail his own project. Aurick would just enjoy his time keeping the spy around. Yes, he would make pleasantry out of the time he spent with the spy. It was the first chance he would have to dissect the mind of somebody who was strictly not Gabin, while being intimately close to understanding Gabin._

Medic was not sure when they had stopped. He still hurt, but at least he could breathe safely. There were no more bumps to go over. He finally had the peace and calm that he could use to sleep properly.

He was not on a proper bed by any means. Not that he would want to risk climbing up onto the bed. It hung partway over the cab of the vehicle, meaning it was a bit of a climb to get to.

He was laid out on the couch instead. It might have been a couch, but it was the most comfortable cushion set he had laid in in a long time. Even if he was not injured, he would have gladly lounged there.

The door opened, causing him to flinch. He tried to pretend he was unaffected, watching with his peripheral vision as he stared straight up at the ceiling. He was very alert and very aware that in his current state he was not in a good place to defend himself if he was attacked.

“There,” Lucien growled, “Now sit down and stop whining.” With an unceremonious shove, Lucien put the engineer back on the floor with his hands tied behind his back. The sniper was nowhere to be seen though.

“Where is the sniper?” the medic blurted out his curiosity.

Lucien turned to him, “The scouts are taking him for a piss. They’ll be back shortly.” With that, Lucien turned to the sink to wash his hands.

“Isn’t there a bathroom in the back?” the medic inquired.

“This camper doesn’t have a large tank,” the engineer interrupted, “Between two people it can become full pretty fast. Add four more and you’re looking at needing to go drain it within a few days’ time.”

As he was washing his hands, Lucien added, “Right. That is why we are only using water in here when absolutely necessary.” He quickly turned off the faucet and turned to dry his hands on a towel left out for that purpose.

“All that hand washing is still gonna fill the sewage tank,” the engineer said curtly.

“Shut up,” Lucien replied.

The medic sighed, but continued with curiosity, “What would be so bad about draining the sewage tank?”

“You would have to go to one of the truck lots with a sewage that they’ll let you drain it into,” the engineer explained, “And I don’t think you lot want to introduce yourselves to civilians like that.”

“And we don’t trust these men,” Lucien interjected, “So, we must try to avoid that very situation.”

“What about your disguise kit?” the medic asked.

“You have a disguise kit?” the engineer sounded stunned at the mention.

Lucien looked at the medic with a frown, “Yes. We will use it if we have an emergency. But let’s try not to make it an emergency. It seems people can recognize your face even with the hair dye, after all.”

The medic sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. After a few moments, he grunted, “Help me up.”

“Just lie down and relax,” Lucien insisted, “You’re too injured to get up and move about.”

“No, I have to take a piss,” the medic raised his arms a little, “Help me up.”

_“Not much of a life, is it?” the engineer asked._

_Aurick gave the man a puzzled look. This was an odd change of the subject about whether they could make a super human using only cloning technology and genetic material that had already been donated. The project sounded far too strict to let them play with the technology that the engineer was working on, but it was nice to think about._

_“All busy work,” the engineer grunted with a sigh. He lost his soft smile to a hard frown. “Nothing to do but work.”_

_Aurick chewed on his lip as he held the sheet of metal in place, assisting in the engineer’s work. It would be difficult to not go back to their old habits. They always did enjoy playing with the teleporters and bread. Perhaps they could just go back and repeat those old experiments, if they would not be allowed to play with this new equipment._

_“I reckon it won’t be long before we finish all of our hard work and they realize that they are done with us,” the engineer said, with a woeful sort of tone._

_“No need to think of sad things,” Aurick insisted, “Besides, you’re a genius. They would be fools not to take advantage of that.”_

_“I- that’s not so comforting as I think you think that is, doc,” the engineer protested._

_“I’m getting information about another project I’ll be put on,” Aurick blurted._

_“Another project, eh?” the Texan’s crooked grin returned._

_“Nothing I’m allowed to share details about,” Aurick explained, “But…if they came up with another project for me, they’ll come up with something for you.” He turned to face the engineer squarely. “Engineer?”_

_“Yea?” the man quirked an eyebrow at him._

_If they were parted in the near future, Aurick was sure he would be devastated. He enjoyed the engineer’s company a lot. In honesty, he had formed feelings for him a long time ago. In good ol’ Southern Hospitality fashion, the man had managed to turn him down without having to say it and keep Aurick’s ego intact. If it ever made the engineer uncomfortable to think about those feelings, he never let it on. Aurick hoped it was because he knew that they were good friends first and foremost._

_Though he did know, if given the chance, he would definitely drop Randal for this man of science _and_ action. A thinker and a doer. That was what Aurick wanted in his life. He would drop Randal in a heartbeat if it meant having this man. But of course, that was not in the works for a man thinking so intimately about a _normal_ man._

_He laid a hand on the engineer’s shoulder to pull his full attention. It was a familiar stance, the hand on the engineer’s shoulder and the two of them squarely facing off. It reminded him of the time he told the engineer that if the engineer ever did settle down, that he made sure to keep in mind that he was worthy of only the best women. He should not be convinced to settle for anything less than a woman who made him happy._

_“Carter,” Aurick said sternly._

_“Yea?” the engineer’s face shifted, as if he was not sure what was coming next. Perhaps it was a discomfort with this familiarity._

_“You’re one of the brightest minds the world has ever seen,” he said sternly, “You know it. I know it. You have more PhDs than I have skeletons to prove it.” He let out a laugh to express that the last part was a bit of a joke. Thankfully the engineer was as humored as ever, cackling at the insinuation that he kept skeletons around to prove his worth as a doctor. “You’re going to be just fine.”_

_The engineer smiled up at him, grin slightly off kilter with his upper teeth showing, “Thanks, doc.”_

_“Please, call me Aurick,” he insisted, before turning back to his work holding the metal._

_“Didn’t we already talk about names, doc?” the engineer paused with the wrench in hand. He was staring at the medic with something of a dumbfounded expression. “I don’t think we should make it that personal.”_

_Aurick let out a laugh, if only to cover the dense feeling of emotional rejection. He did not like how much things were changing lately. He already had a feeling that they were going to be separated when projects changed. Just as the rest of the team had been taken away, so would his friend the engineer._

_“Ah…ja…I believe we have little time left in this way,” he gave a vague gesture of one hand, “It’ll be over soon and we’ll only have memories of each other as we are today.”_

_The engineer was uncomfortably silent. His hands slightly fiddled with the wrench. His thumb was playing with a mechanism on it that widened the gap between the teeth._

_“So, call me Aurick,” he turned his full attention to the metal they were supposed to be securing, waiting for the engineer to proceed, “While we still have the time.”_

_The engineer said nothing as he proceeded to fasten the metal. It was a long and awkward silence, only filled by the squeaking and groaning of metal against metal. Aurick persevered, hoping that perhaps for just this little while, they could embed the memory of their friendship into their minds. At least until their friendship was gone forever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Medic: Aurick Radlof  
Original Spy: Gabin Belhumeur  
Original Engineer: Carter McInery  
Original Sniper: Michael Mundaris


	21. Time Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a time skip forward, with some explanation to show the change.

“Do you think the medic’s gonna be okay?” Brian interrupted Lucien’s peaceful silence, “He doesn’t seem fit to walk for a while.”

“Then it is a good thing that we commandeered this vehicle, isn’t it?” Lucien replied, offering a fake smile for his efforts.

“It’s just… Skeeter wasn’t okay when the medic was down,” Brian explained, “I wasn’t there to see how he reacted…initially. I guess that maybe there could have been some context. Maybe I missed something? But…he really seemed scared.”

“If you need context,” Lucien obliged, “He wanted his friend to be well and to defend him from danger.”

“Yea, I know _that_, but…this seemed different,” Brian argued.

Lucien sighed, “If you’re not going to take what I know about it, then go talk to him about it.”

“What? No way,” Brian protested, “Besides, he would not tell me the truth. He would play it off like a cool guy.”

“You think he’s a cool guy?” Lucien could not help a chortle.

“No,” Brian was silent for a few moments. Maybe he was thinking about the inference of this accusation. “He thinks he is cool though. He acts a lot like the original Skeeter too. You know? The name is more fitting than anything.”

“Even after meeting the real Skeeter?” Lucien asked.

Brian looked at him, turning his face entirely towards the driver, “I think if somebody told me that that guy was a fake, and that this guy was real, I’d believe him.”

Lucien found that amusing. “I think I could believe the man you met to be a fake,” he admitted, “But this boy being the real Skeeter? No. Not a chance.”

“You never know,” Brian sighed, “But…I think Skeeter’s really attached to the medic. I don’t think I noticed it before…he didn’t really show it. Maybe I’m just blind to it? What do you think spy?”

Lucien swallowed his uncertainty. He did not want to admit to knowing how bad the medic had it for Skeeter. If he said it aloud, it might force him to realize his chances were slimmer than he previously thought.

“They came off the frontlines from the same team,” Lucien explained, “If they seem to have a bond, it is built off of a long and arduous time spent surviving.”

2 Weeks Later

“We’re out of water,” Skeeter informed the group. This caused the sniper and engineer to sigh.

“Got it covered!” Brian announced with a big smile.

“How do you have it _covered_?” the medic demanded.

“Lucien and I already talked about what to do in this situation,” Brian explained, “We already came up with a plan. We’re gonna go in disguise. You guys are gonna wait in here. Skeeter, you’re gonna need to be ready to drive.”

“What? Why me?” Skeeter deflected, “Why not you?”

“Lucien and I already planned out the heist together!” Brian argued, “I already know what to do with the plan. You just need to drive.”

“So it’s a heist?” the sniper gave a derisive snort. Between him and the engineer, their contempt for their captor came less and less often.

“Shut up,” Brian snapped, “You need water too!”

“Yea, but we go upstream to fill our water tanks,” the sniper replied.

“Fresh water streams are better than any bottled water,” the engineer added.

Lucien rolled his eyes, “Wherever upstream is-”

“It’s east,” the engineer interrupted him.

Lucien cleared his throat and continued without considering the response, “Regardless, we need water now. Skeeter, you are on driving duty. Medic, you watch them.” He gestured from the medic to the captives.

The sniper and engineer laughed at that. The engineer said, “What’s he gonna do?”

“You’re leaving your fort protected by a man who can barely get up,” the sniper laughed.

“Shut up!” Skeeter raised his voice and grabbed for the machete that he kept around to threaten them, “I’ll still be in here! And I’ll cut your fucking throats if you so much as threaten to move!”

That shut them up, but with pouting expressions. The engineer’s lower jaw jutted out further than it usually would, a sign that he was irritated. The corners of the sniper’s mouth turned down and he slumped back against the cabinets.

4 Weeks Later

Lucien calmly stashed the stolen groceries in the upper cabinets, the ones over the sink. Meanwhile, Skeeter was trying to make a getaway in a big vehicle. He sighed and made his way to the cab to take control of the situation.

“There is no need to be driving so fast,” he scorned.

The predicament he found was that Brian was arguing with Skeeter about which way to turn. The two were arguing back and forth in a constant stream of words that never ended. The spy could never find his way into this argument naturally. So, he put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. That shut them up and turned their attention to him.

“Get up,” he gestured for Skeeter to get out of the driver’s seat, “I’m driving.”

2 Months Later

The water was cold, but at least it washed away the memories of the desert. Behind him was a long trek with sand in his clothes. Though there was technically still sand in his clothes, he felt much cleaner.

He looked up from splashing cold river water onto his face and the world paused. All he could hear was running water and the thunder in his chest. He remained silent, instinct telling him not to move or speak lest he get himself killed. Of course, this instinct came from Gabin’s memories as a spy, along with his own experiences.

For a man who had had little exercise, the medic was well toned. Lately he had been moving more and more, but it was still a wonder to behold. His bare feet splashed water up his thick calves. Despite being rolled up to his thighs, his pants were still getting wet.

Some of the water even splashed up above the waistband. With no shirt on, the medic’s skin glistened in the water. When he splashed his chest, Lucien wondered if he had been carved by the hands of gods.

Distracted, the medic turned around to dip his arms into the deeper water. He was fishing around for something. When he rose to full height, Lucien had full view of his back. Trimmed down from shoulders to the waistband were muscles that spoke of years of work.

He was so taken by the curves of those muscles, he almost missed the scars entirely. The majority of the scars held no real bearing on anything. They were just scars. Marks from burns, gashes and wounds that were not healed in time by a medigun. Strange for somebody who carried the medigun into battle every day. Yet, at the same time it made sense for a medic who had been to battle as long as he had been. They were his war medals in a sense.

His eyes barely had a chance to register a very strange scar. It was unique in its form, not made of burns or cuts, but of deliberate carving. He did not have enough time to study what the carving was, but somebody had decided to leave a mark on the medic’s left shoulder blade.

The medic turned and suddenly their eyes met. The blood drained from his face and he quickly looked to the water. His heart was thundering as he looked for a deflection to give the medic for his staring. A gleaming rock caught his eye and he snatched it up. He raised his little keepsake into the air and smiled at the medic.

“Did you find something as well?” he kept up the smile, hoping he might sell the implied lie that he had only glanced up at him.

“I thought I did,” the medic pouted, “I believe it is only fool’s gold.”

“Oh,” Lucien nodded as he turned his gaze back to the water. There were lots of gleaming things in the water. Here and there, there were tiny traces of what could maybe be mistaken for gold. “I suppose you’re right,” he added with a nod.

6 Months Later

Lucien was surprised when he approached the truck. Foldable chairs were placed out under an awning. The medic sat in one chair while the sniper sat in another. The engineer, who had previously been with his hands bound, was holding a razor in one hand. The scissors in his other hand looked a little bit like they were being hidden.

He dropped the groceries he was carrying and made a mad dash. His heart was pounding loudly in his head as he tried to force himself forward. He had not smoked in months! This should be a good thing! He should be able to run better! Alas, this did not seem to have changed his inability to breathe while running so hard.

The result was that when he arrived he was weak and panting. He could not say anything, let alone lift a hand to stop the engineer. Everybody looked at him, puzzled by the sudden behavior. Before long, Brian was beside him, looking over the scene.

“Haircut,” the sniper stated flatly.

Lucien found Skeeter and turned to him, “What the hell are they doing out of their bounds?!”

“Haircut,” the sniper replied more sternly, this time pointing to his own mess of brown hair.

“Yea, we came to an agreement, that it’s easier to work together,” Skeeter explained.

The medic made a dramatic effort of rolling his eyes, “If you wanted them handicapped forever, you should have killed them. Now they’re part of the group. Congratulations, we’re working together now.”

“Well, that…uh…that took a long time,” Brian commented.

“Pretty damn clear at this point you boys aren’t going to kill us,” the engineer said.

The engineer speaking brought Lucien’s attention back to the scissors. He held out his hand in a forceful gesture, “Scissors!”

Without hesitation or any sign of reluctance, the engineer flipped the scissors around in his hand to put them into Lucien’s gloved hand handle first. When he let go, Lucien quickly stashed the potential weapon away. He was wary of the razor, but it seemed less likely to cause any harm beyond a little bleeding.

“We’re agreeing to work with you,” the engineer said, finally showing that reluctance.

“I don’t trust you,” Lucien said pointedly.

“Not very fair,” the engineer adjusted the cord of his razor.

The medic rolled his eyes again, “You’ll have to forgive him, engineer. He’s a spy. Spies are paranoid.”

The engineer chuckled, giving a pleasant smile. It was almost jarring. The man had not smiled kindly like that in all the months they had been traveling together. Now that they were free, the engineer was smiling at the medic like that? He did not like it. He did not think it was safe to be around these originals after they had been captured.

Besides that, he found it frustrating that the medic had dismissed his concerns. Paranoid? It was his job to pick at details! Besides, it was the medic who tended to be paranoid.

“We’re professionals, mate,” the sniper insisted, “We get it. And we’ve decided to let water be under the bridge. S’long as we can move on and not be treated like prisoners in _my_ camper again.”

“This’ll make things easier, spy,” Skeeter added, “It’s hard trying to take care of two guys whose hands are tied behind their backs.”

“Yea, that was getting difficult…and weird,” Brian admitted.

2 Days Later

Lucien did not like the arrangement. It was worrying. At any moment, the engineer and sniper pair could strike while they all slept. Lucien felt the need for night vigilance. This made it difficult to find time to sleep.

True to their word though, the two made themselves helpful. They cut everybody’s hair, even Lucien’s. He would have liked it longer, but the engineer said the cut would be easier to keep clean and it would eventually grow out anyways. At least the medic seemed to like his hair cut, having had enough hair grow back in to shave away the fake blond.

Going forward, the shift change also helped. Now with six people, they changed who drove each day of the week. They made it a common practice to make the seventh day a day to just get out of the truck and stretch their legs. It was usually the day they made a heist and escaped into the wilderness.

9 Weeks Later

Lucien was sitting with his back to the truck. The rock he was seated on gave him easy reach for the water, while keeping his clothes nearby. It was the first time in a while that he let his guard down. It felt nice to just relax.

He was not willing to stick his feet directly into the cold water though. As much as he wanted to wash off, the weather here was much colder. They were getting closer to the snowfall of the mountains.

Crunching of boots on rocks caught his attention. He tried not to let on that his heart was racing now, but he turned his head to look. The engineer slowly approached, seating himself by the rock the spy was sitting on and placing a towel next to him.

“Hope you don’t mind,” the engineer said as he popped off his boots, “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Talk? About what?” he made a quick assessment of the area. The medic was just a little ways up stream, having some private time to himself as he washed off his feet. The scouts and the sniper were still by the camper, messing with the canteens that the sniper planned to fill in the river.

“You know something,” the engineer stated.

“What?” he turned back to the engineer.

The engineer was looking him dead in the eye, “You know something. I know you know.”

“I know what?” he blinked, reeling at the accusation.

“I seen that medic’s scars,” the engineer threw a thumb at the medic, “He knows something doesn’t he?”

Lucien blinked at the medic. The man was wholly unaware that they were talking about him. Everybody was unaware and out of earshot as the two of them spoke quietly.

“I have only briefly glanced at these things,” Lucien explained, “It is rude to stare.”

“But I seen it,” the engineer argued, “He was marked on his back.”

“So?” Lucien dismissed the topic, hoping that in doing so the engineer would give him more.

“So?” the engineer scoffed, “You think I don’t recognize the life logo?”

Lucien was hoping for a little more than that. He had no idea what a life logo was or what it meant. He needed to decide whether to pursue this directly or not though.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said. With the way the engineer was looking at him, it was clear that the man was determined that he knew. Doing this only made it look like he was blatantly playing dumb. “Could you clarify? What is this life logo?”

“It’s the symbol,” the engineer glared up at him, “They used it in the advertising. It was supposed to be recognizable from anything else. The one medicine that could keep a man going. I’ve seen it enough times to know what it is.”

Lucien shivered as a cold wind hit his back. He quickly grabbed his clothes and pull them on. It was too cold to stay out here. He was not willing to catch his death.

“Now wait a minute!” the engineer exclaimed.

“We’ll talk later,” Lucien assured him, “It’s too cold here.” He proceeded from the river bank to the truck. He hoped this would not bring up unforeseeable problems.

5 Hours Later

After some drink swindled from a nearby gas station, most of the others were fast asleep. Brian had fallen asleep on Skeeter, Skeeter had fallen asleep on the medic and the medic was asleep pressed against the sniper’s shoulder. The sniper looked relaxed, stretched out on his chair with his legs out.

The engineer, the main entertainer and a heavy drinker, set aside his latest beer to stand up. He turned to gesture to the spy silently. He proceeded the truck without a word.

Lucien glanced at the other before quietly gathering himself. He had a bit to drink, but nothing close enough to give him more than a light buzz. He was barely even feeling it too.

He followed the engineer into the truck and to the cabinets under the sink. Lucien had not searched this area much, since most of what was there was simply cleaners. The engineer was very familiar with it though, and reached for some wood that was screwed into the cabinet. He procured a key that fit right into the lock to open the makeshift box.

The engineer dragged out a couple of small bottles. They looked like medicinal glass vials, the kinds of things you buy from a pharmacy to aid in coughs. He took one of these empty bottles to study it. The label held a prominent symbol in white that tickled at his memory.

“That,” the engineer whispered as he pointed to the label, “That symbol. It’s the life logo. Your medic buddy has it on him.”

“So?” Lucien handed the empty bottle back, “What does that matter?”

“Your body has the logo carved into his shoulder,” the engineer quirked an eyebrow, “And you’re looking for that facility up north?”

There was a long silence between them. Lucien licked his lips, unsure of what to say.

“I know you’re a clone, but if you’re half as good as Gabin, then you already know what happened up there,” the engineer pressed.

“Of all the things that happened there,” Lucien bluffed, “Which are you referring to, Mr. McInery?”

The engineer frowned deeply, “Dr. Aurick Radlof disappeared up there. Everybody knows about it. Nobody’s willing to admit what happened to him…but pretty damn sure it was the straw that led to the facility’s closing.”

Lucien felt a cold shiver running up his spine. His blood was draining away from all of his extremities. He could not even feel his toes anymore.

“Not saying I know anything,” the engineer raised his empty hand defensively, “But if Aurick’s last place was there…it’d be the best place to find his last project.” He shook the bottles in the air.

“And you want to find it?” Lucien studied the bottles. The medic’s last project had something to do with this life logo?

“Sure do,” the engineer chuckled, “Any man that ain’t up for dyin’ would want some of it.”

“Hmmph,” Lucien was doubtful. It sounded like the kind of thing a snake oil salesman sold.

“How do you reckon we been around this long. We were just about wondering what we were going to do about our stash running out when you lot came around,” the engineer explained.

“And you have withheld this information?” Lucien scolded gently.

“Wasn’t none of your business,” the engineer scorned in response, “But…if we’re going the same way…why not work together?”

Lucien hesitated, as he looked at the bottles in the engineer’s hand, “You leave the medic alone though.”

“What?” the engineer blinked at him confusedly.

“He doesn’t know anything about this,” Lucien explained, “And you’re not to bring it up to him.”

“You think a clone that ain’t supposed to know about this has that mark for reasons of not knowing about this?” the engineer shook the hand with the glass bottles again.

“He honestly doesn’t,” Lucien argued sternly, “And even if he did…well…some clones don’t want to remember. He has a temper that is best not to tempt.”

The engineer puckered his lips at that. Finally, he nodded.

“Alright, you have my word. We won’t say anything to the medic,” the engineer agreed with a nod.


	22. Betrayal, Comraderie, Beginning of the End

_“Hmm…” the medic hummed thoughtfully._

_“What is it, doctor?” the spy replied. Their daily rapport had only just begun and the medic was humming about some thought._

_“I was thinking about how odd it is to think of you any different from Gabin if you don’t even have a name to differentiate you,” the medic explained, “I thought maybe we could start today by talking about names.”_

_“Sure,” he gave a chuckle at that, “Give me a new name. This sounds fun.”_

_With a pleasant smile on his face, Dr. Radlof adjusted his seat. He studied the spy for quite a while. “You’re far different from Gabin,” he explained, “I think it would be fitting to find a name for you that best fits your personality.”_

_“Do you mean that I have changed? Or is this another attempt to convince me that I am not who I am?” he laughed, but really he was delighted. Dr. Radlof was such an insightful man, seeing deeply into the similarities and differences of even men who looked the same. “Should I remove my mask for today’s session?”_

_“If you feel comfortable doing so,” Dr. Radlof nodded._

_With a silent nod, the spy proceeded to remove his mask. He carefully folded it and placed it to the side. He was not a heathen after all. Once he was done with that, he brushed back his hair with his fingers, wanting to give off the sense of self-adoration. Gabin was an avid narcissist, after all._

_“How do you feel?” the medic asked as he was tending to his hair._

_“Quite relaxed,” he smiled, offering Dr. Radlof the chance to suspect that he was lying. Gabin rarely smiled, after all._

_Dr. Radlof nodded, “I am glad to see you’re feeling more comfortable without your mask. It was a thing of contention for Gabin.”_

_“For me,” the spy corrected, pointedly._

_“For Gabin,” Dr. Radlof responded sternly._

_The spy waved a hand dismissively, “So…names? You wanted to give me a nickname? Is this common practice for all of your patients? Or is it just me?”_

_Dr. Radlof offered him a smile, “I don’t get many patients nowadays. You are my first among clones, to be honest. Dr. Moser took control of the project.”_

_At the mention of the man’s name, the spy could not help but scowl. He had learned from context of prior conversations that it was Dr. Moser who had put him through the ringer. Dr. Randal Moser was the voice on the speakers. Dr. Randal Moser was the source of his absolute rage. Dr. Randal Moser might someday meet a fate at the spy’s hands._

_“I think that a name would help you process,” Dr. Radlof went on to explain, “It may help you in realizing your identity. As you are not Gabin.”_

_The spy was barely containing his excitement behind a veil of irritability. A name for himself? An identity separate from Gabin? Being somebody new and entirely different? He wanted all of that._

_“Hmm…are you particular to having a French name?” Dr. Radlof asked._

_The spy chuckled at that, “I think that even if I were a clone, I would still technically come of French origins. I would appreciate a French name.”_

_“Ah…” Dr. Radlof nodded slowly, “And so many to choose from too.”_

_“Are you going to tell me you suggested this on a whim and did not bring a planned list of names?” the spy was suppressing his giggling, but he had to let his face relax out of the irritation._

_“Well, I suppose I did choose it spur of the moment shortly before this session,” Dr. Radlof admitted._

_The spy allowed himself a chuckle, “Not very professional of you, doctor.”_

_“No, but I do have one idea in mind,” Dr. Radlof replied._

_“Oh? What is that?” the spy pressed. He was simply buzzing with delight at this possibility._

_It had been a long time since he first met the doctor in the flesh. Dr. Radlof was not quite as pragmatic a man as he recalled. Or perhaps it was passion he was missing. Whatever the case, working with Dr. Moser had done nothing for him, and now he was almost a complacent husk of his former self._

_Some days, he wanted to reach out to this man. He wanted to ask him how he was doing. How was he faring in the real world? How was the Federation treating him? The most important question he needed answered was who had brought him to this tame state of complacency._

_“Lucien,” Dr. Radlof stated._

_“Lucien?” he gave the man a small smile, “Why such a name as that?”_

_The medic grinned at him, “Do you remember a cat?”_

_“Do I remember a cat?” he put mockery in his tone to insinuate that this was a silly question to ask. Of course he did not remember any particular cat._

_“Ah well, I suppose it is all the same. I think Gabin got the cat long after the memory scans,” Dr. Radlof explained._

_The spy had to be careful with his choices here. He was aware that cameras along with Dr. Moser were watching them. He calculated his best course of action along the lines of keeping his head up and the false identity of Gabin alive._

_“Of course you would say that,” he let out a bout of giggles._

_“Of course?” Dr. Radlof gave him a questioning look._

_Part of him wanted to admit that he believed the medic’s words. He believed there was a cat. He half wanted to meet this cat._

_“Why would I ever get a cat?” he scoffed and then laughed at the preposterous assessment. It did leave him to question the statement though. “I loathe lowly creatures,” he went on._

_“I know,” Dr. Radlof said, studying the spy’s face, “That is why it was so strange when he came to meet me with a cat of his own. A real cat. Alive…and well.”_

_The spy was not sure why it bothered him so much, but he could feel the blood draining from his face. Gabin had a cat? Why would Gabin ever have a cat? The man was a narcissist and loathed everything beneath him. Which meant everybody, because he believed everybody to be beneath him._

Lucien woke with a start. He was trembling all over. He was not sure why he was shaking. He had not had some bad nightmare. Perhaps it was the nature of the dream that made him feel perturbed.

“Hey spy! Are you alright?” he followed the sniper’s voice to the source itself.

He nodded slowly, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” the sniper argued.

“Had a bad dream?” the engineer whispered.

“No, I am fine. Really,” he tried to insist, but he could tell that they were not buying the lie.

“You don’t have to cover your tracks at every turn,” the engineer said before lying his head back down, “We all know Gabin did a lot of shit…it would not be out of place for him to have passed on something horrible to you.”

Lucien glanced around and found that the two scouts and the medic were all fast asleep. The engineer looked like he was very comfortable stretched out on the couch. Though the sniper did make himself look like sitting at the table was the most comfortable way to sleep.

Lucien shook his head in protest. But he decided not to argue. There was no real reason to try and convince them otherwise. Besides, he was losing time for sleep.

_Strutting down the halls, the spy came to a halt at the entryway to the recreational room. He felt like the scout on a good day, bounding on the balls of his feet with excitement. He bounced right in where the others were lounging around._

_“Ah, my friends!” the spy grinned from ear to ear as he entered their space. He could see their disgruntled looks. Nobody liked him, but he did not care._

_“Hey spy!” the one exception bounced right out of his seat to greet him._

_He managed to suppress any outward expression of disgust. The scout did not necessarily like him. Rather he showed tolerance to anybody and everybody. He always did it with a smile too. That pissed him off._

_This was fine. Everything was going to be fine on his own end. He already had a plan in the mix for these cheery attitudes._

_“If I may have your attentions?” in spite of having scout’s attention, he addressed the whole room._

_There was not much in response from the others. They were difficult to enthrall. At least they were generally giving him some attention. Just the movement of eyes or a momentary glance gave him the floor._

_“We have a mission,” the spy announced._

_“What? Really?” scout asked excitedly. He immediately backed up and tried to play off his enthusiasm for a fight._

_“What is job?” the heavy weapons guy inquired, showing little interest outside of his newspaper._

_The spy let one corner of his mouth turn up, “Oh come now. Don’t pretend you can read that. There is work to be done, anyways.”_

_That gave the big man some pause. He looked up at the spy, his face turning ever so slightly rouge. Nearby, the others were starting to give their attention to what was going on. Because, they were mercenaries. Mercenaries loved drama, because drama was just fighting’s baseline._

_“Do you wish to continue pretending reading? Or are you looking to actually work?” the spy challenged, careful not to let his smirk grow wider._

_“What is the job then, spy?” the engineer spoke up, interrupting him._

_Spy turned his smile to the engineer, “An employer is seeking a bit of intel for a hefty price.” He raised his hands and rubbed the pads of his fingers together. The best way to speak their language was to bring money into the picture._

_After a debriefing over the mission, spy found himself alone with the engineer in the mess hall. The medic was still absent from the team. No matter. It would be easy to make life worse for the idiot while he was not around to silence him._

_He took a seat across from the engineer, who was munching on something with potatoes in it. The man was chewing in silence for a while. The spy sat there, waiting for the proper opening to speak with the man._

_Once he had finished his mouthful, the engineer lifted his attention to the spy. His eyes were not visible behind his goggles but spy could mostly read his face well enough. Those goggles did not hide the muscle movements around his eyes._

_“So, that mission…” the engineer sucked on his teeth, “You managed to get that from...who exactly? I understand it’s intel from the Federation. It’s a pretty big risk to take something from the Federation like that.”_

_“I have my ways,” the spy grinned._

_“Sure,” the engineer scooped another spoon of the potato food into his mouth._

_“Do you doubt me?’ the spy questioned._

_“No,” the engineer replied, his mouth still half full of food, “But it seems a bit suspicious to get such a piece of work. What else did you dig up about all of this?”_

_The spy glanced around, as if he was worried of other onlookers. Oh if there was an audience for this, he would welcome them to see. He reached into his coat and pulled out a file. As soon as it dropped to the table, pictures began falling out._

_With a cautious finger, the engineer flipped the file open. If there was any pleasantry on his face, then it was quickly vanishing. The spy was giddy about revealing this to the worst-man-to-reveal-this-to, but he was doing his best to keep a serious attitude._

_“We have a problem,” he pointed to the picture of Dr. Aurick Radlof and Dr. Randal Moser in an intense embrace of lip locking._

_“Problem?” the engineer seemed like he had not yet processed all of this._

_“The Federation is digging up dirt on us,” the spy said, “And I believe our _medic_ is sleeping with the enemy.” He picked up a picture of the two men. The medic was turned away from the camera angle, but it was clear to see the face of the man he was with._

_“Who is that?” the engineer demanded._

_“Dr. Randal Moser,” the spy explained, “A potential empathizer with the enemy and whose whereabouts are currently unknown.”_

_“And you have intel on _him_?” the engineer pointed to the man in the picture._

_The spy fumbled for a moment. He was not expecting for _that_ to be demanded of him, “Well, no. The Federation has covered its trail well. If he was on our side…well…it would be a different story, wouldn’t it?”_

_The engineer seemed to be eating up his words so well now. His lack of forethought to take a look at Dr. Moser’s files left him with nothing to show them that would concretely prove that Moser was not working against them. None of them would have a personal interest in Dr. Moser’s doings anyways. It was Dr. Radlof, their medic and trusted comrade who was in question here._

_“I don’t know about you,” the spy spoke low, “But I question our medic’s loyalty.”_

_The engineer looked up at the spy then back at the pictures. He said nothing. He did not even look aghast or horrified at what he was seeing. He looked like he was thinking it over, deciding what he was going to say about this._

_“I also wonder what our medic’s motives are,” the spy tapped a picture that took an obscured angle. Having been there, he knew the horrendous sight. All the picture showed was the medic’s bare back as he embraced a lover whose face contorted in ecstasy._

_“You wonder at that?” the engineer gathered up some of the pictures, gently scooping them back into the file. His movements were slow, careful and methodical._

_“Well, you don’t seem too perturbed about this news,” the spy noted._

_The engineer fixed him with a glare, “I’ll make up my own mind about the situation. Thank you.”_

_This was displeasing to spy. He had been looking for more of a reaction. He did not let his disappointment show outwardly though. The two of them rose from the table as the engineer scooped up the whole file. He abandoned his food as he made his way from the mess hall._

_The spy’s system was flowing with adrenaline now. Maybe he was about to see the reaction he had wanted before. The engineer still had the file in his hands, so he was planning on doing something with it. When they came to the recreation room full of men, it was clear that something big was about to be done with it._

_The engineer paused and turned to the spy. He was speaking loudly though, addressing the entire room. “I reckon you have files on everybody. Am I correct in assuming that?”_

_The spy nodded, lidding his eyes slightly. He was eager for the engineer to get to the juicy bit of his reaction. But the spy would be absolutely patient. No reason to rush things. Worst case scenario he could mess everything up by being overly eager to see how this plays out for Dr. Radlof._

_The engineer slapped the file onto the coffee table, “Then the only reason I’m showing this is that none of us have anything to hide.”_

_The engineer held everybody’s attention. None of them were interested in him or what he said, but rather the file. The most intriguing thing anybody could bring a mercenary was dirt on another man. Dirt was one of the most useful weapons and tools, especially in a spy’s arsenal._

_The engineer flipped the file open to let them all gawk at the pictures and papers, “Our medic’s in a precarious situation.”_

_“Precarious?” the scout squawked as he stared at the pictures, “Is that a guy or a gal?”_

_“Is man,” the heavy said, wincing at the sight. The spy was disappointed he did not show this to that man. He would have gotten the more immediate reaction he wanted._

_“Do we really need to be seeing this?” the sniper asked, gesturing to the file, “I wouldn’t want anybody seein’ my naked butt while I’m with my Sheila.”_

_The spy had not expected such a neutral reaction from the sniper. His disregard for what he was seeing, what was most important in that picture went completely over his head. It did not matter to him that the medic was embracing another man in the throes of pleasure._

_“That’s because your naked butt is ugly!” the scout spouted._

_“It’s unprofessional to be spreading another man’s personal business,” the sniper said sternly, unaffected by the scout’s words._

_“Da,” the heavy rumbled, “Is not professional.”_

_The spy was surprised by this turn of events. The heavy was agreeing with him? He had winced upon seeing these pictures!_

_“According to spy, there is reason to believe the man he is with may be with the enemy,” the engineer explained, “An empathizer. Maybe somebody planted to give them intel from the inside. That means medic is at risk.”_

_“Then medic is a traitor!” the excitable soldier roared. He grabbed scout by the collar of his shirt, throwing him around and ready to pound him in the face with a fist._

_“Easy there,” the engineer strolled over quite casually and managed to calm the soldier down with his body language, “Medic is the last person to suspect of treachery. Besides, we can that out on the actual enemy. Maybe this man duping him could use a bit of a wakeup call.”_

_“Do we know where to find the bloke?” the demoman spoke up._

_The engineer looked to the spy, “I’m sure spy can find him. We should probably secure medic’s location and get him to safety first.”_

_“Wait a minute,” the spy was seething and barely containing his rage, “None of you are bothered by the fact that our medic has been sleeping with an enemy? A _man_ from the enemy? Likely feeding him intel from our side of this war?!” He let his anger boil out in his words as he let them think he was worried about the security of their own information._

_The engineer looked at the spy for a few moments, then down at the file. He was one of the smartest men on the team. He could not have possibly overlooked this fact._

_“Doc’s a pragmatic man,” the engineer finally spoke, “Not the kind of man who tells all his personal life, but I think it’s for a reason. If he kept this to himself, then maybe he’s used to the suspicion.”_

_“It’s not a particularly normal thing for men to do,” the spy was barely containing his rage again._

_“No,” the engineer admitted with a shake of his head._

_“Wait,” the scout finally caught up to the discussion, “Are you talking like…about doc’s loyalty? Because doc’s pretty loyal. I bet if he had to, he’d do work for the enemy. But that’s only if he had to. He’s pretty much the kind of guy who doesn’t really care about these things.”_

_There was a very still silence in the room. Nobody said anything. Nobody looked at anybody else. The spy could practically see the pyro squirming in his seat._

_“The Federation executes shirt lifters,” the sniper stated, “I doubt the doctor would throw his support to their cause.”_

_“What?” spy reeled for a moment as it hit him all at once._

_“Well yea,” the engineer agreed, “This evidence clearly shows he has motive to oppose the Federation. I ain’t questioning that.”_

_“Wait…” the spy’s voice was surprisingly weak._

_“Aye, but if his partner is working with the enemy…we might have something to worry about,” the demoman argued._

_The clip of boots came from somewhere. The spy was not sure where they were. He was still trying to figure out how to salvage this. This was not going the way it was supposed to go._

_“How tell doctor about this?” the heavy asked, “Will be very mad about this.”_

_“He’s right, medic would be mad about all of this,” the demoman agreed._

_“Then burn it all in a fire!” the soldier announced. Suddenly the pyro was on his feet, gleefully clapping his rubber gloved hands with delight at the idea of a bonfire._

_“No!” the spy declared, “You are not burning evidence.”_

_“Still,” the engineer said, “I think it’s a bit disrespectful to keep something this sensitive of the doctor around.”_

_“Da,” the heavy agreed._

_“Why?” the soldier grabbed up one of the pictures between his sausage fingers, “These photos are well shot and are very flattering!”_

_The scout snickered at that, “What? Are you a nancy boy too now?”_

_The soldier rounded on the scout, “I am not a nancy! I am a proud soldier of the United States! And I will defend her glory to the end of days!”_

_Nobody said anything. None of them wanted to go over the soldier’s rage about the loss of a nation again. Spy did not bring it up because he simply did not have the energy for it._

_“Easy boys,” the engineer insisted, “Nobody needs to be calling names.”_

_“Is disrespectful,” the soldier growled at the scout._

_“Besides, we have a teammate to help,” the engineer announced._

_Spy turned as boots clipped into the room. His heart began to race and he could not contain the smile that spread across his face. He turned back to the engineer, watching as the medic tried to take in the room._

_“Help a teammate with what?” the medic inquired._

_The team all turned to look and see. Most did not respond with much. Though, the engineer looked very surprised and had a greater reaction than he had had before. The demoman rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to make himself look smaller. The scout started speaking but without saying anything intelligible._

_The medic’s head whipped back and forth as he surveyed the room, “What? What is going on?”_

_The engineer stepped back, allowing the medic a path directly to the file on the coffee table. Left open and pictures exposed, the medic could clearly see what had been done here. He could see what had been revealed, all of his secrets left bare for his coworkers. For a moment, the spy got to relish the look of shame and horror on the man’s gaping-mouthed face._

_“Spy got some intel that you might be sleeping with somebody empathizing with the enemy and so we’re like worried that maybe you should stop sleeping with the possible enemy. It isn’t safe for us when we’re in the middle of a war. You know?” the scout yammered, finally becoming coherent._

_For a few more moments, the medic had nothing he could say. He was caught without words. He looked like he was holding his breath too. He might well be having panic set in. It was the most beautiful resolution to an almost failed plan he had ever seen. It was worth not seeing a better reaction from the engineer._

_“Just until we can resolve his identity and who he works with,” the engineer offered calmly._

_The medic spun to face the engineer, eyes wild with fury. He had the look of an animal caught in a hunter’s trap. He was about to start flailing wildly. Unfortunately for animals, that only brought more pain and injury._

_“Who he works with?! He works with me! He’s not an enemy stranger!” the medic frantically gathered everything up. He barely managed to stuff pictures into the file. He almost missed the fact that a picture was in soldier’s fingers before snatching it away. “I don’t need to be told.” The man’s words were not entirely clear to the rest, who looked on in confusion. The moment he turned and darted from the room, the spy knew._

_The once failed plan was working just fine. Regardless of his stupid coworkers, the medic had the shame of a man caught. He knew he was caught and he could not get out of it, not with all of those pictures. He was already set in a panic and would not be able to think straight for a while. He would probably flee to his lover before he realized that none of them had accused him of anything, let alone admonished him for his affections for men. In fact, the spy reasoned that this behavior might lead them to distrust the medic after all._

_“Where is he going?” the scout asked._

_“Probably going to be pissed next time we got work to do,” the sniper was grimacing._

_The heavy groaned, “Is going to be hard day’s work without doctor’s help.”_

_“Dammit, spy!” the engineer turned on him. He gave the man a shocked look, feigning complete innocence. “Go after him! Make sure he doesn’t get himself into some sort of trouble. Get some intel on that…partner of his. I don’t care it’s a man, just make sure he ain’t gonna kill medic!”_

_It was a direct order, but spy did not take direct orders. It was stupid for the engineer to think he could simply order the spy around. Then again, when he thought about it, if he followed the medic he was more likely to find incriminating dirt. Even if nothing was incriminating, he could doctor the facts to make it look incriminating._

_So, without a word he left in a hurry. He went to his quarters and fetched his things. Keys in his pocket and camera ready, he was prepared to gather more of the medic with his lover._


	23. Fatally Ill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mercenaries must put on a show to present an illness to military officials who would otherwise kill them.

_Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked overhead. The storm was dark with looming clouds. In this darkness it was hard to tell what car was what. It was the perfect cover for tracking someone, though it did make tracking them hard._

“Spy? Spy, wake up,” a voice called to him.

_He was sure he knew where the medic was going regardless. He did not need to be reminded of the place where the lovers met._

“Spy?” a voice tried to reach him.

_There was plenty of film in his pack. His camera was plenty ready. He even brought the charger for it. This time, he would find something incriminating, and this time he would not go to the team with it._

“Spy!” a hand snapped in his ear and a hand took his shoulder.

He gasped for air, gulping for it as if he had been immersed in water. He sat up quickly and looked around, feeling spun. He blinked as he came to the realization that he was on the floor of the mobile home, laid over the plastic blanket thing that the engineer and sniper called a sleeping bag.

“Spy?” he looked up to see the medic with a pinched brow. If they were not so far, he could have kissed those lips for showing such concern on his brow. “Are you alright?” the medic asked gently.

“Yes,” he shook himself, trying to shake the dream. He thought he had long since shook off dreaming of Gabin’s memories. Perhaps they were back to haunt him since he was around the original engineer and sniper.

“Good,” the medic sighed and rose to his full height. He held out a hand, offering it in assistance. “The sniper says we are in frozen tundra now.”

“What?” as he took the medic’s hand, he looked at the windows at either side. Confused, he realized that the vehicle was moving, and he had to quickly go to the couch to be seated. He ended up beside Skeeter, who wriggled at the pressure against his side.

“You were very sound asleep,” the medic joined him on the couch.

The spy looked at the shoulder touching his. His heart was racing, though he told it to just stop. He should not be so excited by the mere thought of just touching the medic. The man was just an ordinary man, after all. Still, he had to admit that he liked seeing a softer look in the medic’s eyes when he met his gaze.

“Are you uncomfortable?” the medic inquired warily.

“No no!” Lucien assured him, “I was just uh…just thinking. How long since we started moving?”

“We started moving a couple of hours ago,” Skeeter answered. He leaned forward, trying to get Lucien and the medic’s attentions. “You were pretty out of it. You’re usually such a light sleeper too.”

Lucien swallowed hard. He was definitely a light sleeper. Even before going to war, he had no problem jumping out of sleep at the faintest hint of danger. Noises typically brought him right out of slumber and into a defensive mode.

“Perhaps he simply hit REM sleep at the wrong time,” the medic offered, “It happens when one does not get proper sleep earlier in the night. You can hit REM sleep towards the end and it is harder to wake up.”

“Really?” Skeeter asked as the medic nodded.

Lucien wanted to ask the same thing. He did not know much about sleep science, but that did not seem quite right. It could be true, and he mentally kicked himself for doubting his medic. Still, a little part of his mind told him the medic was lying for him. He liked that idea much better.

“Oy!” a voice called from the front. Everybody turned their attentions towards the cab. The curtain was pulled aside and the sniper peered back at them, “We’re coming up on troopers. They might search this camper.”

None of the others spoke. It was dead silent. Lucien felt his throat go dry. His heart was quivering or the medic before, but now it was rattling in its cage at the prospect of danger. This was the first real danger they had faced in perhaps a year.

“If they catch you…well…” the sniper hesitated, “They might kill you on sight.”

Lucien swallowed, “What about you? How will they know you’re the originals?”

“They won’t,” the sniper replied.

“This ain’t a lifestyle we chose,” the engineer called from the driver’s seat, “And we ain’t going down without a fight neither.”

“Without a fight? What are we supposed to fight with?” Skeeter protested.

“We do not have any equipment,” the medic added.

“Oh God,” Brian whimpered.

Lucien took a deep breath and loosened his grip on his clothes. He rose to his feet and turned to address these men. He could see scared pale faces. They were trapped in this mobile, where stopping would definitely lead the men outside to trap them. Kill on sight was a very clear distinction from a “probable dead.”

He cleared his throat as he addressed them, “Gentlemen? Why now do you tremble in fear?” He put as much emotion into his speech as he could, wanting to inspire them.

“Because we’re about to freaking die!” Brian exclaimed.

“We are mercenaries!” the spy leaned down to shake Brian’s shoulder, “Like it or not, that’s what you are!”

“I didn’t want to be,” Brian whimpered.

“We have the resources, the will, the skills to unite and defeat anyone…_**anyone**_ who gets in our way!” He paced towards the front of the mobile and pulled the curtain aside daintily. “Even you hold the same capacity.”

The engineer spoke up to respond, “That’s inspiring and all, but-”

“But nothing!” Lucien snapped, “You are mercenaries! You are fighters! You said that you would not go down without a fight, so let us start a fight!”

“We have limited ammo and no medical equipment,” the sniper protested.

Lucien gave them a confident smirk, the way Gabin would if he was coming up with a devious idea. He hoped it instilled some form of confidence. They had to remember Gabin to some degree.

“Then let’s use our other resources,” he turned to the other clones, “Scout!”

“Yes?” both scouts responded, before sharing a look.

“Find me anything that could be applied to change color…powders or paints,” Lucien instructed.

“Right,” Skeeter jumped to his feet and hurried to the back of the mobile to search the bathroom.

“Okay,” Brian was a little more hesitant before he started searching cupboards.

“Medic,” he turned to the man in question, who gave him his questioning attention.

Lucien pulled the watch from his wrist, offering it with two gentle hands, “You are the most recognizable. Please, take my watch.” The medic carefully applied the watch to his wrist. “You activate it with this button,” Lucien pointed. As instructed, the medic pressed the button and disappeared. “Perfect, but do not let them touch you.”

He hurried to the cab again and put a hand on the engineer’s shoulder, “We’ll trade places.” He pulled out his disguise kit and donned the attire of a nurse from the facility. He pulled out the spare disguise kit and handed it to the sniper, “You will be my partner.”

The sniper hesitantly took the disguise kit. With the press of a button, his visage changed and he became Nurse Tanner from the facility. The two looked at him expectantly.

“They are going to search this place,” the engineer protested.

“You are going to the back with the others,” Lucien explained.

“Lucien! I found something,” Skeeter called.

The vehicle rolled to a stop and Lucien gestured for the engineer to follow. Both the engineer and the sniper followed, curious as to what was going on. Lucien approached Skeeter to take a powder cake compact from his hand. He gave the engineer and sniper a questioning look.

“Had a lady friend over a few years ago,” the sniper smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, “She left that and we never got around to getting it back to her.”

Lucien shook his head before opening it up. It was a red blush, perfect for making one look rosy in the cheeks. For Lucien’s plan, he intended to make them look rosier than a fever.

“Apply this heavily,” he handed the blush and compact to the engineer, “You and the scouts need to be fully covered with it.

“I am confused by the choice of how things are going,” the medic interrupted.

Lucien cleared his throat again, “The sniper is the quietest. He’ll be less likely to blurt out something. Medic, I’m sorry, but you will be seen as a larger threat than anybody. But scouts and an engineer? Scouts are not threatening, and the engineer is…much softer toned.”

“And what’s with the make up?” Skeeter waved the blush in the air.

“The Sniper and I are from the facility transferring you all to an isolated location to test the unmanageable illness you have,” Lucien explained, “So make yourselves bright red, lay down and start groaning and moaning in pain.”

“Right,” Brian grabbed the blush brush, put some blush on it and began applying it vigorously to Skeeter’s face.

“I don’t think we have much more time,” the sniper interrupted. Lucien looked to him to see him pointing to the cab. “We stopped short of the stop, but I think they saw us.”

Lucien looked back to the others, “Hurry!” Without another word, he darted to the cab. He got into the driver’s seat and waited for the sniper.

“Do you think this is going to work?” the sniper asked.  
Lucien glanced at him. His first instinct was to give him the truth, the way he had spoken with everyone for months now. He was not sure. He was not sure any of this could work out for them. This could end very badly, with all of them dead. The truth was that he was scared and he did not want to go forward.

His answer would garter no trust or confidence from the sniper, he knew that. It would not make him feel more comfortable with going forward. He had to say something that made him sound more confident in himself. He needed to sound more like the man he was cloned after.

“Have faith in me!” he gave the sniper a big smile, “This is going to work!”

He had no idea if this was going to work. He could barely keep his hands from trembling on the steering wheel. He was reluctant to finally let the automobile roll forward, leading them up the dirt road towards the vehicles and men who waited to stop anybody passing through.

“I don’t like this,” the sniper growled.

“We’re ready!” the engineer called from the back.

“Lay down and play sick!” Lucien hissed.

Something knocked on the window, turning Lucien’s attention away to the glass of his door. He carefully rolled the window down, barely managing to keep eye contact from the military official outside. He would not show any weakness or be any part of the failure of his own plan.

“Sir, can we see some identification?” the man said flatly.

Fortunately for the spy, he still had the IDs on him. He did not have a chance to sort out which was which but he handed both over to the military official. It made him confused as he stared at them for a few moments.

“We’re on our way to a facility up north,” Lucien explained, “An isolated facility for clone testing.”

The man gave him a worried frown, “Sir, is there anyone else on board the mobile?”

Lucien glanced at the sniper. The man was quiet, but with Tanner’s face, he looked worried. Lucien decided to lighten the mood.

“Relax, Tanner! He’s only doing his job!” he let out a hearty laugh as he turned to the official again, “Officer, we have orders to transport three clones.”

“Are you saying you have clones in there?” the officer inquired.

“I am saying we have orders to transport highly sick passengers to a facility for testing,” he emphasized his words with tone, “It is highly inadvisable to allow anyone near them as they are highly contagious.”

“We have protective equipment for handling them,” the sniper interjected.

Lucien offered the sniper a thankful smile. He turned his attention back to the military official, “If we may, we are on a tight schedule.”

“Not until we search the vehicle,” the officer waved off his request.

Lucien swallowed, “Sir, I must inform you of the risk you run if you enter the living quarters of this mobile.”

The man gave him a puzzled look, before turning to his walkie talkie, “I need a search team up and ready. I’ve got a-”

“Inform them to bring hazmat suits!” Lucien declared. He barely swallowed, trying to recover from the outburst.

“What?” the man gave him a glare.

“Sir, these are very sick clones,” Lucien said, “They are _sick_. This is an unidentified illness of unknown nature. Our goal is to relocate them to the facility for immunization research.”

The officer was silent, staring at him. Perhaps the cogs were just turning slowly in his mind. That or there was something Lucien needed to explain further.

“This is a highly contagious illness. Anyone who comes in here _must_ be considered infected. At this point, my partner and myself are at risk of being detained for testing and treatment upon arrival,” Lucien gestured between himself and the sniper, “We did not come all of this way, risk high fever and organ failure. Accept that we’ll lose our freedoms in a testing facility. Just for some goddamn grunt on an authority high to spread the contaminant to innocent civilians!” He slowly raised his voice, emphasizing the frustration and gravity of the situation.

There was a long silence. The man stared at Lucien. Lucien stared back at him. They were like this for far too long.

Finally, the officer turned to his walkie talkie and said, “Send in the hazmats.”

Lucien looked on with silent fear. It was the kind of fear that paralyzed. He could not move or speak. He could not have answered a question if he wanted to. He looked on, standing next to the sniper, while men in silver hazmat suits walked around the mobile. They swept the area, but they did not seem to be the kind of hazmat dressed searchers who knew anything about medical science. They were just looking for signs of a fourth man.

“Anything you can tell us about the infection?” one of the men in his hazmat suit spoke up over some speaker.

Lucien took a careful breath. All of Gabin’s training and Lucien’s experience led up to this, “Fevers can run high. The fever itself can be fatal. It has a few small cold-like symptoms. But those barely hit you before multiple organ failure.”

“Multiple organ failure?” the man in the hazmat suit sounded surprised.

“Yea,” Lucien nodded, “If the fever does not kill you, then multiple organ failure does. The more time we waste here, the closer they come to death.”

He gestured to the engineer and the scouts. They were twisting and groaning as if they were in the worst pain. The engineer was the most convincing but the scouts were writhing like idiots and being obnoxious.

“We need them alive for testing,” Lucien explained.

“Alright,” the man said, “That’s a wrap. There’s nothing else to find here.” The other men started filing out of the mobile. “We’ll leave you to your job,” the man in the hazmat suit gave them a salute, “God speed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lucien nodded. The sniper copied this, but in a much quieter voice.

When the door closed and they were all alone, the spy took a deep breath and sighed. It worked. It was done. Now they just had to drive away.

He moved into the cab of the vehicle. He could see some soldiers at the side of the road who were now saluting. It was an odd sight to see as Lucien put the truck into gear.

“Holy Dooley,” the sniper sat down in the passenger seat carefully.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucien agreed as the truck jolted forward. They were saluted all the way through the line of cars and men, until they were finally free from them.


	24. Plastic Cheese for a Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is an simile to the events of this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited March 16, 2020 for formatting and grammatical errors.

_The spy settled into his position and waited. He smirked as he watched Dr. Radlof throw open the door. Little did either of them know, he had a bug planted right in their meeting location._

_“Randal!” Dr. Radlof exclaimed._

_“Yea?” Dr. Moser turned and grew concerned upon seeing the flurry of worry on the medic’s face, “What’s wrong?”_

_“What’s wrong? Randal! We’ve been spied on!” Dr. Radlof exclaimed. As he spoke, he went to the window and jerked the curtains shut._

_Too bad, the spy thought. He tuned in to listen through the bug he had planted. He could at least get something juicy out of this, or enjoy the fallout of his spying._

_“We’ve been caught! And the spy has revealing photos of us!” Dr. Radlof exclaimed._

_“What do you mean? How do you know?” Dr. Moser asked hesitantly._

_“How do I know? He showed them to the entire team!” Dr. Radlof roared in outrage. The spy spared himself a giggle for that._

_“He showed…pictures? What kind of pictures?” Dr. Moser asked hesitantly._

_The medic came back with a tenfold rage, “_Pictures_, Randal! He has pictures! Pictures of us! Pictures of you. Pictures of…”_

_There was a shuddering breath and what sounded like a sob. Ooh it was delicious. The spy peered at the window, with the skewed view of Dr. Radlof bowing over with a hand on his face. He was enjoying the view when the curtains suddenly closed. It took a bit of jiggling, but the hands managed to cover the whole window with the curtains drawn._

_“Dammit,” the spy hissed. He continued to listen carefully to the bug._

_“This…has been too much,” Dr. Radlof said softly, “This has jeopardized everything.”_

_“You’re acting like this is the enemy that has found out,” Dr. Moser argued, “It’s not. It’s just your team. So they know now. What’s the big deal?”_

_“What’s the- what’s the big deal?!” Dr. Radlof’s rage came over the mic with such passion that it almost caused the speaker to squeal, “I was respected among my peers! I was accepted among them! I was able to do my work in peace among my comrades. I spent twenty years working on these relations! With a gathering around pictures of us naked I’ve lost all of that.”_

_“You…you don’t know that,” Dr. Moser argued weakly, “Go talk to them. Have you talked to them? I mean, if you haven’t, maybe they’ll understand. They aren’t the Federation, Aurick. You’ve always felt safe with them.”_

_“Because they always had my back! I healed them and they protected me to keep me healing them,” Dr. Radlof ranted, “Now?” His voice grew softer and weaker. “Now, I’m not sure they’ll even look at me the same again.”_

_“What are you going to do?” Dr. Moser asked softly, “Abandon the post?”_

_“No,” Dr. Radlof’s voice was a little stronger now, “I’m breaking this off.”_

_“What? No!” Dr. Moser protested._

_“I have to,” Dr. Radlof argued._

_“No you don’t! You’re just saying you do,” Dr. Moser argued._

_“If you have any dignity in you, you’ll leave this alone,” Dr. Radlof said sternly, “It’s over, Randal. It has to be over. My work is too important to jeopardize it for this.”_

Lucien took a breath and shook himself. He needed to focus on driving the truck. He did not have time for memories. It was not his own memory anyways. He did not do that. He did not like Dr. Aurick Radlof’s crying as Gabin did.

“That was clever,” the sniper stated. He was staring out of the windshield ahead of them.

“It was just a matter of working with their knowledge and what we had,” Lucien explained.

“What if it had not worked?” the sniper asked.

Lucien doubled back down on the confident act from Gabin. If he wanted to maintain the trust of his comrades, he needed to maintain the façade that he was completely infallible. They needed to believe that he did not doubt himself for a minute, even though he did.

“There was no chance of that,” he lied through a forced smile, “Everything was under control.”

“What if they noticed the makeup?” the sniper argued.

“I could dismiss it as an applied medicine used to alleviate symptoms,” Lucien dismissed the question.

“What if they called somebody and found out there was no detail taking sick clones outside of the battlements?” the sniper inquired.

“We would have doubled down with raging insistence that they were not getting their information from the right source. We would have further scared them with insistence that they were now contaminated with a deadly disease.”

“What if they had bumped into the medic when he was under the cloak?” the sniper asked.

Lucien’s heart flopped around. He did not think he could manage with the possibility of them harming the medic. They could have killed him the moment they realized he was hiding under invisibility.

He took a careful breath. He had to ease himself not to shudder as he did so. He did not want to drop the calm and determined façade.

“He could have been an escapee,” the spy explained slowly, “He would have been explained as having boarded on his own without permission. But being around the other sick ones, he was contaminated. He would have to be transported with the rest for testing. We would have expressed that he was especially necessary if the three we had did not survive.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. To think that he could have been put in a situation where they would have taken his medic. He was unarmed and incapable of doing anything about the medic’s safety while they were in this mobile. He would have had nothing but his words to placate them into leaving the medic alone.

“You seem to have an answer to everything,” the sniper finally stated.

“Mr. Mundaris,” he forced a chuckle, trying to keep up the confident façade. Deep in his belly everything was flipping over and over. It was churning and turning in a way that made his heart feel weak. He wanted to throw up and pass out at the same time. “I’m the clone of Gabin Belhumeur, the original spy. Do you really think I _wouldn’t_ have an answer to everything?”

The sniper made a non-committal grunt in response. Lucien would just have to take that as the end of the conversation. At least the sniper was no longer questioning him. So now he could breathe. But that sick feeling had not fully subsided in his body.

_The spy arrived at the base. He was just in time to watch Dr. Radlof enter the facility. He gave the medic a look of surprise, feigning the idea that he had been here all along. He was hiding the amusement that bubbled beneath the surface of his surprised façade._

_“Save it,” the medic growled._

_The spy put his hands up as he watched the man pass. He let himself have a little smirk as the medic stormed down the hallway. He was very upset and it was all the spy’s fault. This was a wonderful turn of events._

_He decided to follow, keeping his steps careful and quiet. He made his way to the recreational room, where the majority of the team was still gathered. Now, they were all looking to the medic. They did not all have the same expression. Some of them looked uncertain. The engineer looked worried. The sniper did not even seem bothered by all of this._

_“I wanted to assure you all,” the medic began by clearing his throat, “This has no bearing on my work, nor will it affect the future going forward. As it stands, this is a…a uh…a mistake…something that happened once.”_

_“Only once,” the concerned engineer gave the medic a little frown, “Doc, you’re not talking to that man anymore?”_

_“No,” the medic seemed to be breathing with relief. The spy could tell that he was still wary and nervous though._

_The engineer patted the medic’s upper arm, “We’re just concerned. We had some reason to believe he might be…uh…working for the other side.”_

_The medic looked around at the others. They were attentive but silent. If there was any torture to be had, it was whatever was going on in the medic’s head. In his mind, they were probably taunting him and laughing at him. With all of that perceived respect gone, the medic was likely being taunted by his own anxiety riddled mind._

_“I um…” the medic’s voice was so hesitant. He paused over the gazes of his comrades and coworkers._

_“Doc, you haven’t told him…anything about our work, have you?” the engineer asked. His hesitant voice gave the spy the feeling he was worried that the medic might have indeed revealed such information._

_“No! Nothing!” medic threw up his hands, “My work with Ran- _him_ is completely different and separate from my work here.”_

_“You’re not foolin’ anybody here, doc,” the scout threw his arms around almost obnoxiously as he spoke. The way his body moved was that of somebody who spoke with every appendage, using no subtlety or quiet gesture. “We uh…we’re well hearsed on what it means to be in _that_ kind of relationship.”_

_“Not a professional one,” the sniper’s added comment was what gartered snickers._

_Slowly moving around the engineer and the medic, the spy came to stand where he could see their faces. He was pleased at his vantage point, because the medic’s face was a ripe cherry red. The spy could see a small droplet of sweat trickling down the silver of his sideburn._

_“If it’s just a personal relationship…and you do not share anything about our work with him, then there should not be any problem,” the engineer explained, patting his arm._

_The medic’s throat visibly bobbed as he swallowed. The spy watched him try not to squirm under the pressure that he was imagining for himself. He was still looking around at the other mercenaries in the room. Among them were giggles and laughter that caused them to look away and ease the pressure. Slowly, the redness started to fade away and it seemed he was calming down._

_“You’re not…you…I…” the medic stammered with uncertainty on his tongue._

_“Doc, please don’t start any relations with any dangerous agents,” the engineer pleaded with him, ignoring his stammering._

_“W-what?” the medic blinked at him._

_“You heard what I said,” the engineer said sternly, “Don’t get involved with dangerous men. We don’t need any threats to security, you know. It’s hard enough with spies slinking around.”_

_“With…spies?” the medic looked from the engineer to the spy, as if seeing him for the first time._

_The spy flashed him a toothy grin. He might as well realize who had given him such a shameful display to his coworkers. The spy did not even have to say it, he just let the smile speak for itself. It should be enough to communicate how proud of himself he was that he caused such unease._

_“Our top concern is security, doc,” the engineer waved a hand to get his attention. Then he looked over to the spy with a frown. “Yea yea…he’s an example of a dirty cheating spy. He’s an obvious one though. No doubt the federation would plant the likes that would blend right in with us.”_

_Suddenly, the medic’s demeanor shifted. His puffed up his chest. The ridiculous look of shame was washed away. He had a calm gaze as he took in the spy. He looked like he was ready for an actual fist fight._

_“Well, it’s lucky for him that he does not blend in with us,” the medic explained._

_“You really think so?” the spy inquired.___

_ _ _He bit his tongue for a moment. He knew for a fact that the chubby little scientist was made of none of the same things that mercenaries were. He had to admit that the medic’s partner did not make sense as a planted spy. Still, he needed to plant the seeds of doubt before he moved on to feed the information to his prospective employer._ _ _

_ _ _“The Federation would not plant such a spy as obvious as myself,” the spy gestured to himself, “Nor somebody gruff and easy to blend in with mercenaries.” He gestured to the room full of men, who looked curiously at his hand._ _ _

_ _ _“What are you saying?” the medic asked. There was a growl in his tone, a little hint of a challenge in his demeanor as he glared at the spy. “Clarify for me, will you?”_ _ _

_ _ _The spy offered him a chaste smile, “But of course, they would presume your type, doctor. You would be easily taken with a soft, vulnerable man.” He felt his grin grow ever wider. “How much easier you would be taken in by a man who seems so harmless as Dr. Moser.”_ _ _

_ _ _The medic bristled visibly. He must have been taken aback by the spy knowing his lover’s name. Of course the spy knew his lover’s name. He knew everything about all of this. He knew all about their trysts and how far they had gone. He knew how long they had known each other and how long they had been playing at this tango._ _ _

_ _ _At the end of the day he was a spy. He was the best spy. He was going to find out everything he wanted to know. And his employer was going to pay him handsomely for handing over two medics._ _ _

_ _ _“Although,” the spy cleared his throat, “Perhaps it is more important to speak of the mission?”_ _ _

_ _ _The capture of the medic could wait. The entrapment of his lover would take a backseat for now. That was for a future move. He needed to bring the rest of the team to heel. His employer would be extra please for the swift timing that he did so. He did pride himself in being very efficient._ _ _


	25. Remember Lemonade Beer

The spy must have been out of his mind when he stole from the large store. Medic looked on as the others grinned and opened boxes of things. They managed to steal an entire generator and extra red plastic gas cans. There was a large box full of smaller boxes of cookies, which the sniper explained through a mouthful of crumbles that they were called “Girl Scout Cookies.” After some hearty laughter and teasing of the scouts, who were split between amused and irritated, they dove into the boxes and dispersed them amongst each other.

Aside from the generator, the most economical thing they managed to sneak out was a set of foldable chairs. The medic praised the thought as they could finally all sit down and relax in the comfort of clean seats. Then they opened a box with an inflatable pool. What they would use a pool for was beyond the medic. It was far too cold in these mountains for anything water related.

He had not realized he was munching through half a package of coconut and chocolate decorated biscuits, until the engineer’s pointing finger caught his eye. He quickly swallowed and set the package aside. He wiped his mouth as he tried to look a little less greedy in light of their very extravagant prizes.

“You like the coconut ones, huh?” the engineer smirked.

“They’re fine,” the medic waved this off dismissively. He was fairly hungry and though he would have preferred a meatier meal, it was not yet meal time and everybody was snacking on these biscuits.

“Let’s fill it up over there,” Brian said loudly, “It’s flat. It’ll be better for holding water.” Skeeter and the sniper followed Brian as they ran off to a flat space nearby.

The engineer sighed loudly, “Glad they’re having fun, but it’d be nicer if they went a bit farther away. Give us some peace and quiet, right?”

The medic offered him a smile. He felt awkward knowing now that he was left alone with the man. He was not afraid of him, it was just strange. He had been with the scouts and the spy for so long that it felt foreign to be around an engineer alone. Worse, this was the original engineer, not a clone.

“I was hoping you and I could talk,” the engineer pulled up a case of beer and handed one to the medic.

He figured he might as well play along. It had been a while since he had a drink, after all. He followed the engineer’s example of popping off the top with a palm before clanking the necks together. They downed their first gulps in near-synchronicity.

Medic licked his lips and looked at the label. Not the average cheap beer, it looked like a familiar tastier type of drink. It had something of a lemonade flavor to it too. It seemed odd for beer.

“Never had something like that, have you?” the engineer chuckled.

“It’s familiar,” the medic answered.

“Hmmph…” was the simple response. The engineer was shifting in his chair.

“You wanted to talk. Is something on your mind?” he inquired.

“Well,” the engineer put on that disarming little grin that made him look like the most affable person he ever met, “It was by accident- by sheer chance if you will…that I noticed that you have a particular mark on your back.”

“I do?” he blinked with surprise.

Not that he regularly checked his back in the mirror, but he was sure he would know if there was a mark. He rarely looked at his back in the mirror. In fact, he spent as little time at the mirror as possible. He was not about to stand at the mirror while Skeeter poked at him about having some sort of ego about his appearance.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” the medic insisted.

The muscles on the other man’s face tightened. He had a tighter grip on his beer. He said nothing for a bit, distracting himself by taking a few more gulps of alcohol. The medic watched him, trying to understand all these little changes.

“I’m sure I would have noticed if I had a particular mark on me,” the medic explained, “Though I do have some scars. I was in battle for years. The oldest medic clone to survive the front.”

“The oldest huh,” the engineer wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“I think in that time I would have noticed anything particularly out of the ordinary,” the medic explained, “Though, perhaps you have simply seen on of my scars.”

“I’d beg to differ,” the engineer said in a deep growling tone. The warning in his voice made a shiver go down his spine. “You got something to hide?”

“No!” the medic protested. In the distance, a scout’s voice caught his ear, but he could not quite catch what was being said.

“Then why are you denying it?” the engineer demanded.

The medic paused, studying the man’s face. He was truly serious. He was not going to back down. He was certain that he had seen something on the medic’s back. He must be thinking that the medic’s defensiveness was a sign of guilt.

Taking down the rest of his beer, the medic stood up. He let the empty bottle fall and looked to the engineer, “I need a mirror.”

He strode to the door to the mobile and stepped right in without using the steps. He could hear the engineer shuffling in behind him. It was the engineer who closed the door behind them.

He opened the door to the back section of the mobile. He stepped inside and quickly began pulling away his clothes. In his haste, it became a bit of a struggle to deal with the buttons of his vest and shirt. The tie was the only thing that cooperated with him when he loosened it around his neck.

With the engineer watching out of the corner of the medic’s eye, he turned around to face his back to the mirror. He turned his head, trying to get a look at his back. Lines streaked his back in white and faded pink. Old scars marred his skin from years of fighting. He had long since forgotten where he had gotten them all.

He was surprised when the engineer stepped closer. He almost flinched away, his heart racing against his ribs. The man was calm though, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked into the mirror to see that the hand was pointing an index finger at a particular marking. Medic tried to peer at it closer, but it was hard to discern from this distance from the mirror.

“What is that?” the medic twisted as he tried to get a better angle on the mark.

“That mark,” the engineer pulled his hand away and turned around. The medic turned his gaze to watch him go to the cupboards under the sink. With a quick swipe, the engineer grabbed what he wanted and brought a glass bottle up to eye level. “This is that mark on your back.”

Before the engineer could take another breath, the medic quickly snatched the bottle away. It was small and fit easily into one hand. With his fingers gently curled to cradle it, he looked at the label, studying the words and the markings on it.

He knew this bottle. He created this bottle. Well, he did not create the bottle itself. He had created the substance that was supposed to go into it. It was his work that was supposed to be in this bottle. He was-

He shook himself. Those were Aurick’s memories. It was disorienting when he realized that the original’s memories were back at the forefront of his existence. In this moment, he actually believed that he was the one who labored over the creation of this elixir. He chuckled at himself for such a slip up.

“What’s so funny? You know this mark, don’t you?” the engineer inquired.

“Sorry,” the medic offered a smile to the engineer, “I got a little caught up in old memories. Not mine though. I remember. Aurick made this.”

“Aurick did make this,” the engineer nodded in agreement, “How do you know about that? How do you remember that?”

“I’m…” he blinked at the engineer, “I’m his clone.”

“Clones came around long before this stuff,” the engineer waved it off, “He made this after.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” the medic asked, “I remember him making this. I wasn’t created that long ago myself. I think the spy is only about fifteen maybe sixteen at most.”

The engineer pursed his lips, “What does that have to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” the medic’s eyes fell back on the bottle. He was too mesmerized to continue thinking about the engineer’s questions. It was all real, the elixir of life was real!

“You seem rather excited,” the engineer pointed at the bottle, “You know what that stuff’s about?”

“Yes, I remember Aurick making it,” the medic explained, “It was…it was…” He paused as he tried to think back.

“It was what?” the engineer pressed.

The medic set the bottle sideways on the counter. His gaze fell to the floor as he dug for the memory. Why now? Why when he wanted to remember could he not remember?

“If you remember him making it…then you remember how to make it, right?” the engineer pressed.

The medic put a hand to his head. He gently rubbed, hoping the stimulation might help him think. It was not working though. Try as he might, he could not remember the formulas. He could only remember the moments when he held the bottle and when he put it down.

“Come on, medic,” the engineer’s voice was soft as he encouraged him.

He rubbed his head a little more roughly. He was not sure what he was trying to accomplish. He just wanted to remember.

“What was in the formula?” the engineer pleaded.

“I…I don’t remember!” the medic exclaimed.

“What? You have to remember!” the engineer argued.

“I can’t,” the medic closed his eyes and pressed against his forehead. The pressure did nothing for his memory, it only seemed to slip away farther.

“Dammit, medic! Stop being so ornery!” the engineer smacked a fist down onto the counter.

Startled, the medic flinched away. It was more of a jump than a flinch, causing his body to move partway backwards. The momentum did not stop and his feet did not catch up. He ended up dropping to the floor and pressing his back to a wall.

Once his feet felt purchase with which to press his back to the wall, he took eager breaths. Each breath came in and out in immediate tandem. He could not calm it or slow it down. He just needed oxygen.

“Come on, doc,” the engineer crouched down to his level, “You’ve got to remember.”

Suddenly, the door flew open and the spy leaped in the door. The engineer looked back over his shoulder in surprise. The medic could see the spy approach from his peripheral vision, but he did not look up. He could barely focus on what he was seeing.

“I didn’t hit him,” the engineer put his hands up when the spy glared at him, “He got startled and fell.”

“Get out!” Lucien growled.

The engineer was adamant about defending himself, “I swear, it was-”

“I don’t care!” Lucien raised his voice, “Get out!”

When Lucien turned back to the medic, medic covered his eyes with his hands. He did not want to be there where everybody could see him. He wanted to be alone to think. He wanted to curl up somewhere private and think about what this was. Why could he not remember?

“Medic?” a gentle hand with cool temperature grazed his cheek, “Everything is going to be alright. Just breathe.”


	26. Kiss the Memories

Skeeter did not know where he would be best at. Though, after looking things over, it seemed that Lucien had the medic covered. After giving the spy a pillow and some cookies with which to calm the medic down, Skeeter retreated out to the folding chairs.

It seemed very quiet, despite the half-hearted attempts that Brian made to make conversation with the sniper. The engineer had his head tilted down, looking conflicted or perhaps confused. This way he stared at the ground made Skeeter frustrated. It made him think that whatever had happened, the engineer had been there to start it.

“Engie?” he sat down right next to the engineer to get his attention. As soon as he had the stout man’s gaze, he continued talking. “What happened before medic panicked?” he asked.

“Well I…” the engineer glanced at the other two. The sniper and Brian both stopped their chatter as if they were as curious as Skeeter. The engineer turned his head down, “I was talking to him about something. It was something he might have remembered. It was something important to me.”

Skeeter licked his lips, “Did he remember?”

“Well…” the engineer rubbed his hands together, “He said he couldn’t remember the important part. He started freaking out something fierce after that.”

Skeeter sighed and shook his head. Once he was sure that the silence meant he had everybody’s attention, he spoke again, “You can’t push a clone to remember something he has suppressed.”

“What?” the sniper piped up.

“Seen it sometimes in patients at the facility,” Brian added, “Nurse Tanner said it was not uncommon for clones to deal with the identity crisis by suppressing memories.”

“What’s that mean?” the sniper asked, “What you got an identity crisis for?”

“Me? Oh, no…mine was that I…I’m a clone of Skeeter, but I’m almost nothing like Skeeter,” Brian explained.

The sniper burst into laughter at that, slapping his knee, “You? You’re a striking image of him! Well, back in his prime.”

“Laugh all you want,” Skeeter took the reins of the conversation again, “It gets serious. I’ve seen it. Some clones just…can’t handle it.” There were a few moments of silence, which he allowed for them to get this information into their minds. “So, back when I was on the front,” he explained, shifting with his elbows on his knees, “Us scouts…we stick together like glue. We don’t meander far apart, we’re best in numbers. So we’re like…a family of sorts.”

“Oh really?” Brian asked.

“What? You don’t know?” the sniper asked.

Brian shook his head, “I’ve never been to the frontlines. I escaped from the programming facility.”

“Well, that explains that,” the engineer gave a chuckle.

“It’s not a laughing matter,” Skeeter interrupted, “It’s easy to forget that…when you’re with a bunch of scouts, we’re all different. Even we forget that. And I’ve seen other scouts forget that, and think they can push memories they like onto other scouts. It never…it never ends well. It can end with a verbal fight or a complete freak out.”

Skeeter needed to take a deep breath. He could feel his hands shaking. He remembered when one of the other scouts managed to push his buttons. It was just the right kind of push to send him over the edge. He had been insane enough to go to an insane doctor for help to take the edge off of the anxiety that came from it.

“I’ve seen some guys kill themselves over…over small memories,” Skeeter took a deep breath, as he tried to calm down.

“They would kill themselves over that?” the sniper furrowed his brow. Looking at him from here, it was hard to see how different he was from that clone that Lucien killed in the desert.

“The medic wouldn’t kill himself over something like that!” Brian’s light tone did not suit the graveness of the matter, “Right?”

Skeeter frowned at the ground between them. It had been a long time since he had been faced with the contemplation of death. He did not want to die. He was sure the medic did not want to die. But the kind of feeling that being forced into suppressed memories made one lose their inhibitions.

“I don’t know,” Skeeter stated, “And I don’t want to find out.”

Skeeter stepped into the mobile hesitantly. He looked around to get a quick analysis of what was going on. The spy was sitting on a folded sleeping bag on the floor, with his back against the couch. The figure of the medic was sprawled across the couch, eyes closed in a peaceful rest. It gave Skeeter a start when his mind went straight to death. His fear was put to rest when he noticed the medic’s breathing.

“We should all turn in for the night,” the spy said quietly, “We need rest before the last leg of the trip.”

Skeeter nodded, but he did not move yet. He wanted to be sure his friend was definitely going to be okay. He did not want to leave anything open-ended, not if he could possibly help.

“Engie told us he was pressing for some…suppressed sort of memories,” Skeeter told him, “I’ve seen some clones…I’ve seen some freak outs from that before.”

Lucien was silent. He simply nodded in acknowledgement of what Skeeter said. He had to be aware of the dangers of this. He was a spy, but he did pay mind to other classes. He had to know what could come out of this.

“Lucien?” he lowered his voice some more, “You don’t think he’d hurt himself after…that…do you?”

Lucien’s face grew tight. With no mask, it was easy to see how he reacted to something he did not like. It was both relief and confirmation for Skeeter, that the spy really did care about the medic’s wellbeing.

Lucien’s gaze dropped away from Skeeter, “I don’t know.”

“Well, I don’t want to find out,” Skeeter replied, “I’ll tell the guys…and then you get some rest. I’ll watch him for the night. Okay?”

Lucien did not look up, but he nodded. At least he understood being a team. He understood that medic’s wellbeing was more important than whatever he wanted. It was better than the original spy ever was.

_The scout followed at the medic’s heels. The group surrounded him, but he felt like he was following medic._

_“Hey doc,” the demoman got the medic’s attention, “I was just thinking about it. And you know? If I wasn’t the man I was, I’d kiss ya. You got a kissable face.”_

_What scout could see of the medic’s face turned red. It was visible that he was embarrassed by the statement. It was clearly alluding to what they learned last night. Nobody had forgotten and everybody was thinking about it._

_“Little doctor is handsome man,” the heavy chuckled before patting the medic’s shoulder, “Is truth.”_

_“Th-thank you,” the medic cleared his throat audibly._

_The engineer chuckled, “You ain’t all bent outta shape about all that, are you boys? Jus’ cause doc’s got his eyes on a different type doesn’t mean you have to make a big deal out of it.”_

_“You were making a pretty big deal about it yesterday,” the scout argued._

_The engineer shook his head, “I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried cause the spy made it sound like this other man might be a bit of trouble.”_

_“I promise you, he’s not any…trouble,” the medic insisted, “I promise.”_

_“Any man would protect his favorite prostitute,” the spy’s voice crept up the spine when he arrived in the group, “Especially if that’s the only prostitute.”_

_There was a silence only filled by footsteps and shuffling clothes. The scout was not sure what more could be said. As it stood, it seemed a little odd for the spy to out the medic like this. Then again, the scout thought it was strange that everybody around him was taking this into stride._

_“Sorry I’m not into blokes,” the sniper snickered, “Else I’d try fittin’ your bill.”_

_Though they were teasing, scout could tell it was lighthearted. It was like it had always been. Only now they knew that the medic was a homosexual. He liked men the way they liked women. But just like scout liked Miss Pauling, he was sure that medic liked this other man. Only the medic managed to get much farther with this man than scout probably ever would with Miss P._

_“You’re not his type,” the spy snickered._

_“You don’t know that,” the medic’s stance stiffened as he walked._

_The sniper had a big grin on his face as he turned to the medic, “Are you saying I’m your type?”_

_If the medic seemed a bit read before, now he was the color of a beet. He took a few steps before recovering from that embarrassment. He finally spoke up and said, “I’m not saying anything of the sort.”_

_“Think that means he’d kiss you if you let him,” the demoman teased, giving the sniper a rough nudge to the shoulder._

_“Shut up!” the medic barked._

_“Yea yea, but we all know I’m the most kissable here!” the scout spoke up, before nudging the medic in the side, “Right doc?”_


	27. In a Heavy Storm

The raging storm blew against the sides of the mobile as it pushed through the wind and snow. It was now difficult to stay warm as it seemed the heaters were done for. It left the troop to bundle up with all of the warm clothes the engineer and sniper kept around.

Medic trembled beneath the warmth of a blanket as he pondered their situation. It felt like the first time he paid attention to how insane this trip was. The only person who knew where they were going was Lucien, the spy clone. The only reason that anybody was given was that there was some facility that the spy was looking for.

He tried to think back. He tried to remember if anything more had been mentioned. He wanted to remember if there was some important reason. But coming up with nothing, he could only gather that this was some place important to the spy. Perhaps it was the programming facility from which this clone came from, some place that was shut down to open up Dr. Jodie’s facilities.

“Freaking stinking crap! It’s cold!” Skeeter rubbed his gloved hands together.

“Stay huddled and we should be fine,” the sniper commented.

This was the closest they had been. With two scouts, the sniper and the spy all huddled on the couch, it was a bundle of attempted warmth. In some areas, such as the back of his neck, medic could still feel the sheer icy temperature. Fingers snaked along his skin and forced the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

“I hope engie’s doing alright,” Skeeter commented.

“He’ll be fine,” the sniper shivered, hugging himself tighter, “He’s a trooper.”

“Perhaps we should check that-” Lucien’s words were stopped as the whole vehicle suddenly jolted to a halt.

Thrown around in a tangle of legs, they all panicked to get to their feet. Medic was the first off the ground and quickly dashed to the cab. He looked to the driver’s seat to see a frustrated engineer trying to shift the gear.

“Engineer! What happened?” he inquired. Soon the others were at his shoulder, all trying to peer at the driver.

“We skidded on black ice and hit the snow,” the engineer pointed a red gloved finger at the windshield. There was nothing but snow. As the windshield wipers pushed the white stuff side to side, only more snow was revealed. “I can’t get us out from in here. We’ll have to go out there.”

“Let’s hope you didn’t bury us,” Lucien grumbled as he started for the door to the living quarters.

Medic cringed as he thought of how much colder it would be outside. They could die here and nobody would be the wiser. But destination or no destination, they could not survive if they left the mobile in the snow.

His boots crunched in the snow and left thick dents in the whiteness. Looking behind, he could see his trail, which became muffled by the footprints of others. He looked at the mess of snow and was glad to see that it only covered the front of the mobile, which dove right into it after skidding out of control.

“I’ve got a snow shovel,” the sniper announced, “Scouts, you blokes get on top and get as much of the stuff off the windshield as you can.”

“Wait…” Skeeter’s voice was not very loud but just audible as the wind picked up.

“You’re taller than me,” the engineer said as the sniper opened the outer storage compartment, “I’ll dig out the engine. You help them clear off the top.”

“Alright,” the sniper agreed as he handed over the shovel.

“Hey!” Skeeter called out.

“Doc!” Brian called as he climbed on top. He gestured for the medic to follow him to his perch.

Medic carefully approached the ladder. He was wary of all of the ice and snow. It would likely be slippery. His mind went straight to severe concussion if somebody slipped and fell off of this height.

“Hey fellas!” Skeeter called louder.

“What?” Lucien, the engineer and the sniper all yelled at once.

The medic looked to see that Skeeter was pointing. He held his arm like that for a long time, as they all tried to peer into the distance. The medic blinked as he tried to clear his vision. He had to wipe his glasses as they became fogged and unclear to see through.

In the distance, through the haze of the snow, they could see a building looming alongside a mountain’s slope. It was quaint and almost entirely hidden by the snow. Perhaps nobody had been there in years, but it was worth investigation.

“We should unbury this first,” Brian said.

“Might be shovels over there,” the engineer argued, burying his hands under his arms to warm them, “If we check we might find tools we need to get out of this mess.”

“You suggesting we leave it here?” the sniper asked, his voice raising with a bit of frustration.

“You wanna stay behind in the freezing cold?” the engineer looked to the sniper.

The sniper paused before he shook his head. He tucked his gloved hands into his pockets and followed as Lucien and Skeeter started towards the building.

“Hey! Wait up!” Brian called. He almost kicked medic in the face, as he had not thought to back away from the ladder yet. The two of them ran to catch up with the group.

The long trek through snow led them to a shivering halt at the front of an old building. It was not an ordinary building either. It was not dissimilar to the programming facility where they found Brian. It was similar, yet it was completely unguarded with a chain and padlock on the front.

“Damn,” the engineer breathed.

“Should have brought the wire cutters…the big ones,” the sniper commented. He turned his head to look at Lucien, who was walking away from them. “Spy, you got a lock pick on you?”

“No need,” Lucien called over his shoulder, before gesturing for them to follow, “Come this way.”

Curious, they all moved as a group to follow. The medic kept a steady pace, not wanting to leave the comfortable safety of numbers. As it was, the snow only felt colder here than it had by the mobile. His toes were starting to feel numb already.

They rounded a corner as they followed the spy. It was a very steep slope to climb, but they continued. There was a strange set of stairs, like a fire escape placed for emergency purposes. Lucien paused to test it with his weight before he climbed up. Upon seeing the uneasiness, the medic followed suit in testing the steps before trusting them.

The group became a line of men as they made their way up the stairs. It made a turn and approached a door. Lucien found a keypad by the door, one that had been covered in snow. Scraping away the snow as if he knew it was there, the medic decided that Lucien had definitely been here before.

“Dammit!” Lucien hissed.

“What? What’s the problem?” Brian asked.

“The key,” Lucien growled, “Dr. Moser changed the key.”

“Dr. Moser?” it had been so long since he heard- no it had only been in memories that he heard of Dr. Moser. Only memories spoke his name. This was his first time hearing the name from somebody else’s mouth. “What kind of keypad,” he approached the spy’s shoulder and peered at the ten digit pad.

“I know what it previously was,” Lucien explained, “But now it’s changed.”

“If Dr. Moser changed it…” the medic hesitated, pulling off a glove. If memory served him right, he knew what the code would be changed to. In fact, he wondered if it had not been Aurick that changed it. No…that was not right…

_Aurick stopped at the door as he listened to the footsteps behind him. There, his patient waited. He was watching Aurick’s back with anticipation. He had no idea what was in store for him._

_“Docteur?” the spy inquired._

_“This is a private door,” Aurick explained, “This is my staff door. I use this door every day. If you mess with my door, then you will no longer have permission to use it.” He turned to look at the spy, who nodded back at him._

_“I am trusting you with a lot here,” Aurick went on._

_“Are you?” the spy immediately quipped._

_“I think I can trust you, Lucien,” Aurick softened his tone, “And if I can, then you will be back at this door in one hour.”_

_“One hour?” the spy paused to touch his face. Without the mask on, his features gave away his thoughtful expression._

_“One hour,” Aurick nodded, “And if you come back within one hour, you will be rewarded with more time.”_

_“I’m a bit lost,” the spy offered him a smile and a shrug, “What is behind this door?”_

_“Come,” Aurick turned back to the door, “I will show you.”_

_He angled his body so the spy could clearly see. His finger slowly pressed each number in correct order. Then, the door clicked loudly. His other hand turned the handle and swung the door open. He stepped out onto the platform and moved out of the way so the spy could see for himself._

_Awe, surprise and wonder were words that the medic would use if he could describe this moment. There was no faked smile. There was no pretended distance. The spy was genuinely enamored with seeing the sunshine and snowfall for the first time._

_It was a gentle flurry, coming down slow and in swirling gusts. The spy reached out with his gloved hands, only for the snow to vanish into wetness on the leather. He pulled away the gloves and quickly stuffed them into his pockets, before he offered up cupped hands for the snowflakes to fall into._

_Aurick watched, awed by the sight. He imagined this is how a child would behave if discovering snow for the first time. Such a wondrous sight must have delighted him, even if Gabin had those memories from before._

_From within the confines of the facility’s hallway, a voice called out, “Call for Dr. Radlof!”_

_He poked his head in the door to shout, “Take a message! I am busy with work!”_

_He returned to the scene with the spy. The man’s eyebrows were turned in such a manner that he could only describe as desperately overjoyed. It was a sort of disbelief, looking from his hands up to the heavens._

_“Doctor,” the spy spoke but did not look at him._

_“Yes?” Aurick replied._

_“I don’t understand,” the spy looked at him, “What are we doing here?” His hands were starting to tremble, but Aurick dismissed it as being part of the cold._

_“Outside,” he gestured to the snowy terrain along the steep mountain slope, “A nice place to play. A cat has to go outside from time to time.”_

_The spy tried to argue, fixing his face with something like a glare, “Doctor, I-”_

_Aurick raised a hand to cut him off, “I’m not playing games. But you are free to play outside. You’re…but a child in age. To be honest, I should have expected it but even you took me by surprise. I should want to fix you…but I don’t have any…particular want to make you one of Moser’s fighters.”_

_He paused, unsure of himself. That was a lot to unload on this clone. It was a lot to unload for himself. It was too much information to be giving it willingly to a spy._

_“If I can trust you…that I have your loyalty…you’ll be back in an hour,” he explained, “You and I both know that you know the truth. But if you’re so willing to play Gabin, go ahead.”_

_He waited for the spy to respond. He said nothing. He just stared back at Aurick with bewilderment. His eyes were wide with something like a twisted fear._

_“You can choose,” Aurick explained, “But I think you’re fascinating. And to be honest, I can’t bring myself to tell Dr. Moser that you have been faking this.”_

_“Faking?” the spy’s voice was weak so he quickly coughed, “I am not faking anything!”_

_Aurick gave him a smile and nodded, “Sure you’re not. But we both know…we know the truth. And when Dr. Moser finds out truths…who will have your loyalty?”_

_“I…” the spy turned to face him squarely, clearly desperate to say something in his own defense._

_“Don’t speak,” Aurick waved as he returned through the door, “Actions speak louder than words. Enjoy your time outside!”_

_He smiled at the spy as he closed the door behind him. He took a breath and let it out carefully. His heart was racing now. Could he truly trust a spy? Could he trust anybody? He had already lost the loyalty of anybody he cared about. Nobody around here was loyal to him anymore. He was not even sure if the spy clone coming back would be an actual symbol of loyalty, or if it was a failure to find a safe path through the snowy tundra._

_Aurick looked up from his work as the door opened. He managed to pull the sheet over it just in time not to have it seen. He did not care who knew what he was working on. As long as they could not guess how to make it._

_“Doctor?” he recognized the spy’s voice before he entered._

_“Ah,” he smiled at the clone, heart racing as he tried to decide whether or not to follow up on believing this meant loyalty, “You came back. I’m glad. I was starting to think you had truly decided to keep up the charade.”_

_“I…the spy hesitated, turning his face away._

_“You must be so cold,” he worried about the body language. It could mean that the spy was ashamed that he had not found a manner of escape. “Why don’t you sit a while and we can talk.”_

_“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” the spy swallowed, his throat bobbing._

_“It’s no bother,” he opened the flask he brought to work today and shook it a bit, “How about a drink? Something to warm you up after an hour in the snow.”_

_The spy was moving very differently now. Changed from the way Gabin would stride with such determination, he instead slinked hesitantly to the chair. He sat down with little gusto, his face turned down. When he accepted the flask, he took only a few sips._

_“Are you ashamed you didn’t find a way out? That’s okay, I actually did my research before doing this experiment,” Aurick explained, hoping to take the wind out of the poor man’s broken pride, “I wouldn’t have actually let a clone of Gabin have chances to escape the facility. That would cause problems for me. So, I picked the hour after all manner of transport was halted. I even went as far as to remove the spark plugs from faculty vehicles, just so you would not be able to use them.”_

_“You are…” the spy hesitated, “Very clever doctor.”_

_“I’m sorry to have broken your spirit,” he watched the spy down the flask a bit more liberally, “I suppose if it was not an exercise of gaining your loyalty, it’s at least a reminder that you’re not the smartest man in the room.”_

_“I know,” the spy spoke softly between gulping down the alcohol._

_Aurick frowned and quickly took the flask from him, “No need to get so drunk.”_

_The spy took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “Doctor, I hate it here.”_

_“Not my cup of tea either,” Aurick decided to take a sip from his flask. It was almost empty, “But work is work.”_

_“I loathe waking up every day,” when the spy’s eyes opened they were suddenly flooded with tears._

_Aurick steeled himself as he watched. Gabin could be a master manipulator. He would not put it past the clone to have conducted a practice run of this speech while he was out in the cold. Nevertheless, he let the spy proceed._

_“Every day of waking up…and hearing his voice…it’s a nightmare,” the spy gasped between his words, as if he as losing control. His hands gripped at his pants with white knuckles. “I hate him. I want him to die.”_

_Aurick rolled his eyes, “You’re not the only one.” He tried not to think of the many ways he had pondered offing Randal Moser, just to cope with the stress of being around him._

_“Every day he talks over our sessions,” the gasps turned into sobs, “I loathe his every word. I wish he would die.”_ The spy’s head turned down, hair covering his eyes. The tears were still running through, dripping from his chin.

_“He has that effect on people,” Aurick reached out to pat the spy’s shoulder._

_Suddenly, the spy’s opposite hand reached up to lay on Aurick’s wrist. His heart skipped and sped up. His body felt cold. Adrenaline pounded through his system as he prepared for attack._

_“But you…you’ve been nothing but kind,” the spy’s voice was soft and tender, as if to speak with affection, “You have every reason to hate Gabin, but you don’t. You trusted Gabin with everything and he ruined it. But…you still…” Slowly, the spy looked up through watery, red eyes. That face pleaded with him, twisted with agony and hope. “Dr. Radlof…Aurick…”_

_Part of him wanted to correct the spy to have him call him by professional titles only. But he was also wary of interrupting this speech. He may need to stay distant and keep himself from being put under the spy’s little manipulative spell, but the spy himself might need this spell for himself._

_“You…are…I…” the spy fumbled and swallowed, “I want to tell you that you have my loyalty.”_

_“Is that what all of this speech is for?” Aurick gave him an amused smile._

_“No, I want to say it…but…I want to say more,” the spy took his hands in both hands. He held the hand before himself, as if he was about to beg for mercy. With tears leaking in droves, it was hard to tell what he wanted from all of this. “I…I love you.”_

_Aurick sat alone at his desk. His work was almost done for today. He was quite tired, so maybe he would leave it for tomorrow morning. He had a lot to do on it, after all. He did not need to make any stupid mistakes on it either._

_“I changed the code on the door,” Dr. Moser’s voice traveled into the room as the door opened._

_Aurick tensed and glared at his hands. He pulled the sheet over his work, refusing to let this man see his work. He turned the swivel chair around to look at Dr. Moser, “What?”_

_“I said I changed the code,” Dr. Moser handed him a paper with a set of numbers._

_“Why would you do that?” he glared at the man._

_“I heard you’ve been taking that spy outside,” Randal’s glare doubled down on him, “You’ve been showing him the door we take. It’s access to the outdoors and even if you haven’t given him the code, he can figure it out for himself.”_

_“So?” Aurick shrugged, “What’s your problem?”_

_“My problem?” Randal scoffed, “It’s not _my_ problem! It’s yours! Giving a clone access to the facility and free access to escape is a punishable offense. Be grateful I changed the lock when I did and I’m not reporting you for it.”_

_Aurick frowned and looked at the paper again, “Huh…funny…I recognize these numbers.”_

_“Yea? That’s the date we considered our anniversary,” Randal stated, “Remember that? When we were young and pretended the world wasn’t against us?”_

_“When I was blind and foolish,” Aurick grunted._

_“You can’t make a companion out of a spy,” Randal stated._

_Aurick was bewildered by the change of topic, “What? What are you talking about? What?”_

_Randal shook his head at him, “He’s a spy, Aurick. He’ll always be a spy. A spy clone cannot be your companion. Just trying to be with a clone is already unethical.”_

_“What are you even talking about?” Aurick tightened his brow._

_“You’ve been playing very nice with him,” Randal explained, “I know your signs. You’re crushing on him. It needs to end before it ends you.”_

_Aurick frowned at that, “Then I’ll end it.”_

_Randal put on a smile as he watched Aurick rise from his seat, “Good on you.”_

_Aurick came to the door that held the spy contained. He was not unaware of these holding cells, but with this being the last clone here, he was not sure how soon anyone would notice. Either way, he wanted to be sure that he did this before it was too late._

_He opened the door and carefully looked inside. He did not want to step in and be ambushed by the spy, who might otherwise assume he was somebody else. He did not trust the spy not to act on his instincts, after all._

_“Lucien?” he said softly as his eyes adjusted to the lighting._

_“Dr. Radlof?” the spy blinked at him from his perch on his bed._

_Aurick gestured for him to come to the door. He was not about to have a foul trick played on him if Randal was getting stupid. The man had lost his trust long ago. There was no need to test the limits of what Randal would do._

_“Come,” he ordered sharply when the spy approached._

_“Docteur?” the spy asked as he followed the medic down the hallway._

_Aurick was silent, aware that they were surrounded by eyes at every angle. Cameras lined the hallways and rooms. Any one of them could be manned by somebody watching for an escape right now. He did not to risk getting caught before there was enough time to do this._

_“Docteur? Is something wrong?” the spy pleaded from behind him, “Did I do something wrong?”_

_Aurick hurried around a corner to the door. He was about to unlock it when a hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see the spy looking at him, eyes filling with tears and his body shaking. He looked so frightened._

_“Please tell me,” the spy pleaded._

_Aurick licked his lips as he turned around to face him, “I can’t.” Without a second thought he made quick work of the lock and opened the door._

_Out in the mountains there was a storm roaring. The winds beat against his face. Cold wet ice store against the skin of his face. He immediately backed up. He did not want to catch a cold._

_“Doctor…” the spy shivered visibly, “It’s too cold in the storm.”_

_“Right,” Aurick mumbled before hurrying to his office. He grabbed his bag and the scarf hanging nearby. He hurried to return to the door where the spy waited, hesitant to even enter the white madness._

_“Doctor, I don’t think I should like to go in the storm,” the spy furrowed his brow, “If it’s all the same to you, I’ve already had my hour of being outside. I don’t wish to be tested like this again.”_

_Aurick dug out his keys and plucked one from the ring. He tucked it right into the spy’s breast pocket. Without skipping a beat he dug through his bag and pulled out a piece of a car engine. He placed it into the spy’s hand, watching as bewilderment crossed between realization several times on the spy’s face._

_“Be safe,” Aurick quickly wrapped the scarf around the spy’s neck, wrapping it tight so it would not fly right off of him._

_“What? But I…no! It’s not safe! Doctor! Please!” when the spy looked back at him, tears were falling from his eyes, “If it’s something I said…something I did…I’m sorry. I’ll make up for it, I promise! Please!”_

_Aurick shook his head, “You did nothing wrong.”_

_Acting on impulse, he threw his arms around the spy. He did not know what he was doing or why. He did not understand why he chose to do this. Maybe it was the emotions of the moment. Maybe it was something he felt for the spy. Maybe he felt in his heart, regardless of all the logic of his mind, that the spy’s words were genuine. Right up from the start they had been genuine._

_He stepped forward, forcing the spy to step back towards the doorway. “You did nothing wrong,” he whispered into the spy’s masked ear. He took another step, forcing the spy over the threshold. “You’re not at fault,” he whispered as he took another step, “And you were right. I hate Gabin.”_

_“Doctor?” the spy whimpered._

_When Aurick released the hug, he looked at the spy. All finished with crying, the tear streaks were drying as stains on his mask. He looked at Aurick with worry and desperation._

_“I don’t hate you…” Aurick assured him, “But I’m sorry.”_

_In a swift motion, he stepped back and closed the door. The instant a hand banged on the door he turned to the keypad. He made quick work of the numbers, inserting the right coordinates to tell it to assign a new code._

_All the while the spy banged and battered at the door. Desperate to get in, the man cried and pleaded through the steel about how sorry he was and pleading to be let back in. If only the man understood._

_He swallowed back the want to open the door and let the spy back in. He turned away from the door, ignoring the thought that he wanted to pull the spy into a warm hug and tell him how sorry he was._

_He rounded a corner and headed to Randal Moser’s office. When he arrived, Randal was reading over a textbook. It was something to do with the sciences of manipulation. Of course Randal would be reading something like that now._

_He cleared his throat, “I changed the code to the door.”_

_“What?” Randal looked at him in bewilderment, “Why? I changed the code!”_

_“You picked stupid numbers,” he stated, “I didn’t like the code. So I changed it.” He walked over to scrawl the numbers onto some scrap sheet of paper lying on the desk. He turned and hurried to his own office. Considering he gave away his car key and spark plug, he would just pretend to fall asleep doing work in his office._


	28. Not Finished Grieving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of suicide & Crying

The medic stepped past everyone until he was shoving through Lucien. Without a word of acknowledgment, he began typing a code. Before Lucien could even protest, the door clicked. He was going to scorn him for fiddling with such sensitive technology that could lock down the facility if they used the wrong code too many times. He was without words when he heard the door’s lock click.

He stared in shock as the medic opened the door and stepped inside. There was no questioning it. The others did not question it, as they stepped into the hallway and escaped the freezing cold. It was still cold in here, but hardly anything close to freezing. It was musty too, old and abandoned with only time as company.

Lucien looked around. Even in this dim light, he recognized these walls. He knew this place up and down. Most of its rooms had been welcome places to explore for him. Still, he could not help but feel in awe of being back here.

Lucien had to know about the medic, “How did you…know?”

“Aurick Radlof changed the code,” the medic turned to him, giving him a very tired look, “I was going off of a hunch.”

Lucien’s mouth hung open, but he could not speak. He watched as the medic resumed down the hallway. Something alit in curiosity within Lucien’s mind, so he followed. He could hear the others scuffling as they adjusted to the warmer air. Lucien ignored them as he tailed the medic.

The medic did not even stop, he just turned and stepped right into Aurick Radlof’s old office. Lucien could not bring himself to speak. If he could speak he was not sure what he could say. He approached the door and looked on as the medic looked at the ravaged room.

“How did you know where this office was?” Lucien called the medic’s attention. The medic turned around, giving him a puzzled look.

Lucien pointed towards the hallway, “You skipped several doors to come here. You knew it was here. How?”

The medic looked at him and shrugged. He blinked tiredly, like he did not even care anymore. He turned back to the mess of the room, as if searching through the wreckage to find something.

“Medic,” Lucien pleaded for his attention.

“What is it?” the medic asked.

“How do you know this place?” Lucien pressed.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his upper arm. He looked at Skeeter, who gave him a warning glare. “Don’t push him,” Skeeter spoke almost inaudibly.

Lucien sighed when he looked back at the medic. The medic was already distracted with something, sifting through the wreckage of things left behind. If Lucien could have guessed, he would say that this placed was not looted for anything valuable, as it looked more like the remains of a temper tantrum.

Skeeter gave him a gentle nudge, “Come on. We need to find something to dig out the truck.”

Lucien relented, leaving the medic alone in the mess that remained of Dr. Aurick Radlof’s office. He followed the scouts as he made his way down the hall to the main hallway. It was barely any wider, but it led to more offices and useful rooms. He was not sure where they would find anything close to a shovel, but he could at least take a trip down memory lane, reassure himself of memories, and see what other resources he could find.

He was finally here. It had been a long time since he was sent away from this place. He only wished he could have come sooner. Maybe he could have stopped whatever happened to Dr. Radlof.

He hurried down the opposite direction the scouts had gone. He knew there was a recreational room and a kitchen at this end of the hall. It was where security guards would gather for their breaks. He was not allowed in there before. He could go in there now and find respite from the others.

_The spy banged on the door, full force slamming his fists into the door, “Docteur! Let me in! Let me in!”_

_The harsh cold whipped against his body and he shivered. He clung to the scarf around his neck with cold fingers. His leather gloves were useless against the chill._

_Despite the cold, he pressed a finger to the buttons of the keypad to enter the code. He knew the code by heart already. It would be an easy insertion of the code to sneak back in and tell the medic how sorry he was for whatever he did to upset him._

_The keypad made a sound of rejection, a high beep immediately followed by a low beep. Puzzled, he entered the code again. The keypad had the same response to his attempt. He grit his teeth and slammed the sides of both fists into the ice cold door._

_Tears welled up and a lump formed in his throat. He did not know what he had done. He did not know what to do. He had to make it up to the medic somehow, but he did not understand where he misstepped._

_He turned back to the keypad to try entering a different code. Perhaps he was testing the spy’s ability to think through sneaking back into the facility. It could be a test to see if he was still up to par with his clone peers._

_If this was what the medic wanted, then he would enter every code. Yet, every code he entered gave him the same sequence of beeps. Each rejection seemed to be louder and louder. It just kept getting worse and worse until finally it started beeping nonstop._

_He looked up as a red emergency light started flashing. It seemed to be spinning, gartering attention from anybody around. He had messed something up but how and why were answers he did not know._

_If the medic had not intended for him to figure out a way back in, then there was something else. Not wanting to be found by Moser’s guards, whose loyalties did not lie with Radlof from what the spy could tell, he rushed down the metal stairs and jumped into the snow. Cold splashed his face and hit him with full force. He was in it entirely now and he felt he could never escape._

_Perhaps it was that he could never change what he was. Who he was held an entirely different meaning from what he was. Sure he was a spy, but when he thought about it, it seemed like the medic often stared long and hard at his face._

_At the time, the spy liked to stare back. Those chiseled features with those sharp eyes staring at him from behind round lenses were intoxicating. He wanted to stare at that face for hours. He wanted to touch that perfectly quaffed hair. He wanted to feel what it was like to kiss his face._

_Spy decided that this was a one sided feeling. If the medic looked upon his face and only saw Gabin, then perhaps his pain ran deeper than the spy had thought. He had trusted him though. He had given him more than he ever gave to Gabin. He even knew that the spy was being true and genuine about loving him. The spy did not need him to return the feelings, just to accept them as they were._

_Maybe that’s it,” he muttered to himself as he ran towards the back lot of the building._

_All of the time spent outside had given him a good chance to explore. He had seen much of this place and what was surrounding it. Even without the storm, there was no way he could take the road on foot. It was highly dangerous and there was no promise of salvation with a town near a government facility._

_That was when he realized that he had tucked the car part into his pocket. He dug it out as he rushed to the parking lot. He came to a staggering halt as he looked at it. He was not too familiar with how to put a car together, but he was sure he could figure it out. He was no mechanic, but if previous hints from the medic about removing spark plugs was to be believed, then this would be easy enough._

_He glanced up and down the lot. His eyes came to rest on a car, one the medic had described before as being his own car. He rushed to the vehicle and pulled the key from his breast pocket to try it on the lock. When the door swung open, he leaped inside, just to get some respite from the weather._

_He shivered. He was so tired and cold. The storm had taken everything out of him already. He was not ready to face the cold in order to put the spark plug back in place. He would just sit here with his hands under his armpits to rest for a while._

_He was not sure how long he had been dozing, but he was startled when the door clicked open. His eyes opened and he blinked against the light. Looking around, he found himself faced with semi-automatic weapons. The vehicle he was sitting in was surrounded by men, dressed from helmets down to boots in guard attire, with knives and guns strapped to their bodies like they were ready for a war._

_“Hands on the wheel,” one man instructed._

_He obeyed smoothly. He was not about to question a man with a gun in his face. Nor was he about to spook them into accidentally shooting them. They were way too cautious, all watching him as if he had some sort of bomb on his person._

_The man reached in and quickly slapped cuffs on both of his wrists. He stared at them, bewildered at the sight. He was cooperating. They did not need to handcuff him like this. He would willingly give himself up if they just showed him to Dr. Radlof._

_He remembered how he’d been kicked out and it was hard to fight with the tears. He wanted to let them out so he could release the lump from his throat. He wanted a release from this build up as he wondered if perhaps it was the fact that he loved Dr. Radlof that the man had decided to turn him away into the deadly storm._

_“Step out slowly,” the man ordered._

_Again, he obeyed. He moved slowly and carefully as he stepped out into the wind. It was no longer stormy out, with no more snowfall coming down. It was quite windy though, and it bit into his skin with an icy bite._

_Once he was out of the car, one of the other men pushed the door shut. They all kept their guns trained on him, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. It was almost comical that he could adjust his position slightly and get them to shoot each other in the process, if he really wanted to._

_“Let’s go,” the man in charge ordered before they all started marching in tandem._

_Following suit, the spy felt somewhat out of place. He stepped carefully along with him, but all of this felt surreal and like it was not right. This was just not right._

_“Can I ask what is going on?” he inquired of one of the guards._

_They all remained silent. This time even the man in charge had nothing to say. They halted at a door, where three men lined up to block his line of sight. It was effective enough to allow the commander to enter the code to open the door. It was a back staff door, not the door Dr. Radlof used. Still, it was a useful door all the same._

_They marched up a set of stairs, which led to another secured door. This required a much more awkward attempt to block his view of the door. The commander fumbled with the code, but the door eventually opened._

_The door opened up to the main hallway. It was next to the door leading into the guards’ recreational room. His head was jerked around though, as some of the group gave him a shove. He stumbled and followed along as they marched him down the hall._

_They came to a halt at Dr. Randal Moser, for whom they made room for him to see the spy. He was glaring, with his fists on his hips and his chin raised high. He looked every bit as ugly as he seemed, far uglier than in Gabin’s memories. It enraged him to think that Dr. Radlof would rather be with a man like this._

_“So, thought you could escape, huh?” Dr. Moser taunted._

_He opened his mouth to protest that Dr. Radlof turned him out, but he immediately shut it. Dr. Radlof had his loyalty, no matter what. Even if he could not see it at the time, perhaps it had been an attempt to save the spy. Looking back now, he wished he had taken his chance and put the spark plug back in the car._

_“Too bad for you, Dr. Radlof’s so paranoid he takes the spark plugs out of the cars,” Dr. Moser said, as if this was meant to spite the spy._

_The spy said nothing. He bit his tongue. He did not dig for the key or search for the spark plug. Anything he did could incriminate _his_ doctor. He would do anything to protect him, even if there was no chance at happiness for himself._

_“Take him to his room,” Dr. Moser gestured dismissively, “Make sure he stays there. Wouldn’t want him missing his ride out of here at eight tomorrow.”_

_“What?” the spy resisted the gentle attempts to guide him down the hallway, “What is at eight tomorrow? What is going on? Where-”_

_He stopped talking when Dr. Moser raised his hand. He gave the spy a seething grin, one that spoke of being in charge of a very dangerous situation. He had never feared Dr. Moser before, but he had a chilling feeling that crept up his spine now._

_“You’re being shipped to the front,” Dr. Moser said through his teeth._

_“You can’t do that! I am not a clone!” he immediately put up a fight, shoving and pushing against the guards. They shoved back, all of them acting together in a rough tandem. He looked at Moser with a snarl, “You won’t get away with this!”_

_“You’re just a clone,” Dr. Moser smiled, “And it occurs to me that this was pointless. Maybe you’ll die at the front…and that would make my day.” He gestured for the guards to go, “Get him to his cell and keep him there until the truck comes.”_

_“Yes sir,” the commander responded, before the escort shoved the spy forward._

_“You can’t do this!” the spy dug his heels in, trying for just a little more time to learn a little more of what was going on. His heart was pounding now, as he realized why Dr. Radlof had chosen today of all days to send him away with his keys and spark plug. He was giving him a chance at freedom, and the spy foolishly blew it. “Dr. Radlof will have your head for this!” he did not know why he said that, as he was not sure that was remotely true._

_Moser continued grinning at him, “Unfortunately, Dr. Radlof won’t have anything to say after he was found dead in his office.”_

_“What?” the spy’s body fought against his captors, but his mind was frozen. Dead? How? He could not be dead! “You killed him?!”_

_“I could never,” Dr. Moser’s smile faltered, “Suicide is not the most honorable way to go. But it leaves me with no choice but to send you on your way while I focus on more important projects.”_

_“No!” the spy kicked and struck out, trying to fight too many men at the same time. Finally, somebody struck him on the head and his body gave up._

Lucien stared listlessly at the coffee table through misty eyes. He could already feel a hot tear trickling down his face. He did not touch his face. He did not even bother with the tear. He just continued staring as he let the feeling slowly sink in.

He grieved Dr. Aurick Radlof’s death so long ago. It felt like he should be done and over it by now. He should have finished his grieving back at the frontlines, while he was trying to survive at the same time. It had been such a harsh time for him.

A hand clutched the scarf around his neck desperately. He was very lucky to not have had it taken away when he was shipped to the front. It had not served him well in the desert heat. Being brought from a facility in the icy mountains had not helped that either. Still, it had brought him some form of comfort to have something of Aurick Radlof through the grief.

If only he could go back. Maybe he could have said something differently. Maybe he could have helped the man worked through whatever he was dealing with. He could have stopped him from pulling the trigger. Not that he knew for sure that it was a gun that did it, but Aurick did keep a pistol on hand in case of emergencies. It would not be unfathomable than he ended his life with the barrel to his temple.

“Lucien?” a soft voice caught his attention. He looked up to see Skeeter slowly approach the couch and carefully sit down. He kept his eyes on Lucien, his eyebrows turned up with worry. “Are you okay?”

Another tear escaped Lucien’s eyes. He felt like he was going to overflow all at once. A dam had been broken and he could not resist the flood that was coming. He could only hold his breath and shake his head.

“I…you’ve been here before, right?” he asked cautiously. When Lucien nodded, he continued, “That’s why you wanted to come here. But…why would you come here if it hurts to be here?”

“It doesn’t hurt to be here,” he spoke through a gasp, “It hurts to know he died here.”

Skeeter hesitated, licking his lips. He furrowed his brow as he thought about his words. When he was ready, he looked back to the spy. “Who died here?”

“The original medic,” Lucien answered, “Aurick Radlof was here. He was alive and well, and he took his life in the office.”


	29. Dying Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Torture & Death

Skeeter tried to hide that he was glad to be asked to leave. Lucien just needed some space was all. But after listening to the crying for a while, Skeeter also needed some space from it. He felt distant from the topic. The spy was torn up about a suicide that happened over a decade ago. But it sounded like he was somehow close to the original medic.

He just could not wrap his head around feeling bad about the original medic being gone. Sure it was sad. It just did not ring any emotional bells for Skeeter.

He stepped into a room where he found the engineer and the sniper. They were shuffling through papers pulled out of cabinets. They were searching quite frantically that it was alarming.

“So uh…what you guys looking for?” he glanced over the papers. Many of them had sloppy handwriting. Some of it was in German. “Doesn’t look like shovels or nothing.”

“These are notes from the scientists who worked here,” the engineer explained, “There’s some stuff written by the real doc. I recognize it. His penmanship is sloppy as ever, but maybe with that medic clone to help with the German, we might discern something helpful.”

Skeeter frowned, “Don’t press him to do anything that might stress him out.”

The engineer looked at him then shook his head, “Not at all. Just a request to translate notes is all.”

“Skeeter,” the sniper spoke sharply, “Come here.”

Skeeter joined him at his side as he looked through papers. Most of these were typed up. They were formal documents with boring information.

“Most of this stuff is about programming clones here,” the sniper showed him a paper, as if it meant anything to Skeeter, “But the original medic…the doc…he was…he was known for being pragmatic. He would not have stopped his work on an important project like what we’re looking for.”

“You’re looking for something he worked on?” Skeeter looked from the sniper to the engineer and back.

“Michael!” the engineer barked.

Skeeter and the sniper quickly turned to him. They moved closer to look at the handwritten paper that the engineer was examining.

“It doesn’t look like doc’s handwriting,” the engineer explained, “But I think it’s talking about doc’s experiment here.”

“What’s it say?” the sniper pressed eagerly.

“It says ‘pressing has gotten nowhere with Dr. R’s work, but we have noticed that he tends to keep a bottle of formaldehyde with his hidden handiwork.’ It goes on,” the engineer’s finger moved down the page, “Right here, it says ‘supply has confirmed that deliveries formaldehyde daily’ this might be a start to finding out how the doc made the elixir!”

“Elixir?” Skeeter looked from the engineer to the sniper and back, “Clue me in here?”

“The life elixir was commissioned by the government years ago,” the sniper explained, “It was packaged and distributed around the world.”

“This isn’t some fairytale shit either. It’s the real stuff,” the engineer explained, “Reversed aging and kept us alive for over sixty years!”

Skeeter was silent for a moment, mainly because he could not think of what to say. His lips tried to form sounds, but his brain could not form words. He was not finished understanding what this meant.

“Doc managed to make an elixir that makes you young and keeps you that way,” the sniper explained, “But…”

“But what?” Skeeter looked between them eagerly.

“He was a damn crazy man,” the engineer had a smirk despite his words and tone, “As soon as he was moved off the project, it was found that the remaining results were all rejiggered.”

“What?!” Skeeter threw his arms up. This was entirely too complicated.

“He left a trap in his plans,” the sniper explained, “When he left, the formula they tried to replicate was nothing but snake oil.”

“Snake oil’s about all we get these days,” the engineer nodded solemnly.

“So…what? Everybody’s trying to replicate this stuff?” Skeeter pointed to the page in the engineer’s hand.

“That’s the gist of it,” the engineer nodded.

“Ten years ago, he sort of vanished. No more news about him. No more reports about him. He was just gone,” the sniper explained.

Skeeter frowned, “About that…”

The sniper and engineer shared a look. The sniper shrugged and said, “I think we might at least have a start with the formaldehyde. What’s that stuff do?”

“It’s an acid,” the engineer frowned, “Not something you want to injest.”

“Yea well, about the original medic,” Skeeter spoke louder to get their attention, “Lucien said that he died. He was here, and then he offed himself in his office.” He threw his thumb towards the door, hoping he was gesturing towards the man’s office.

There was a still silence. Nobody spoke and nothing stirred. For a while, it seemed like a silence out of respect, in the wake of hearing that they had lost one of their own.

“Hey guys! Come check this out!” Brian interrupted the silence so loudly that Skeeter jumped. Brian was smiling and waving for them to follow him, “I found a TV set. There’s all kinds of recordings and stuff!”

The engineer and the sniper shared a look again. The engineer hummed, “Probably the clones projects.”

Brian lost a bit of his smile as he blinked at them, “Well, yea but I found one that was at least interesting. Had the original doc and the original spy and everything! Come see!”

Curious, Skeeter fell into step behind Brian. When they stepped into the hallway they met Lucien. The man had dried his face, but he had not erased the stains. He had a very stoic look, like he was drained of any sort of feeling.

“Are you doing alright?” Skeeter decided to ask.

Lucien simply nodded but said nothing. He probably did not want to talk about it around the others, so Skeeter let it go. Instead, he followed Brian to the next room over. He could hear the others following at his heel.

“This was a monitors room,” Lucien stated as he entered the room, “It was namely used for monitoring interior and exterior cameras of the facility.”

“I found these!” Brian swung some disks around in the air for them to see, “You can watch them on these!”

“Yes, I suppose they can be used that way,” Lucien said humorlessly.

Brian did not wait for them. He pressed a button on the panel and one of the screens lit up with white lines. The lines slowly cleared until it showed a clear colored image of the medic. The images were moving for a few moments, before the sound actually became clear.

“Ah! Monsieur Radlof!” the spy’s familiar voice spoke over the audio recording, taking on a strange life with how the old audio played back.

The medic frowned, but it was hard to see what he was frowning at, “It’s Dr. Radlof. I am a doctor. I always have been a doctor.” The doctor sounded irate, the way Skeeter remembered him.

“Surely you can spare a minute for an old friend?” the spy’s tone was so coy and innocent.

Lucien growled, interrupting the recording, “What is this?”

“Shhh!” Brian hissed at him.

“Old friend?” Aurick turned around with his lip twisted up in disgust, “Old friend! You are the worst man I have ever met! Worse than my enemies! You betrayed me – betrayed us! Now look! Where we are? And here you are thinking you can waltz in here with your cat and-”

Skeeter noticed a moment where the engineer and the sniper shared a look. It was a knowing look. It was a knowing feeling. Skeeter theorized that it meant they too felt as frustrated and irate as the medic had.

The medic paused, perturbed for the moment. His face was screwed up as he stared down at something. “Is that a cat?” he pointed to the thing in almost disbelief.

“I find animals to be very soothing.” the spy’s voice replied calmly.

Lucien spat a laugh, “As if! The man never touched an animal in his life! He loathed animals!”

Brian hissed more insistently this time, “This stuff happened after the brain scans! Just shush and watch!”

“You need to be soothed?” the medic teased with a clearly spiteful smile.

I thought perhaps you did,” the spy replied coyly.

There was a sound, like a small thump of something dropping to the floor. An orange puff of fluff appeared on the lower edge of the screen before a cat jumped onto a chair in view. The ginger curled up there, trying to get comfortable for a nice nap.

“Since you are so volatile towards somebody simply doing his job,” the spy continued.

“I would hardly call betraying your employer’s other employees being _doing your job_, spy,” the medic argued with sternness in his voice.

“No kidding,” the engineer chuckled and folded his arms over his chest.

“Fine then,” the spy replied curtly, “We are coworkers again now. And they have required me to work here.”

“Hold up!” the sniper exclaimed, “They were working together again?”

“Sounds like it,” the engineer replied.

“Shut up!” Brian barked.

“Work here?” the medic glanced around the room, “For what? What would a spy do here?” 

“If it is not obvious, then I will explain it and save the trouble of the so-called betrayal,” the spy sauntered into view to seat himself in a chair, as gingerly as the cat had, “I was sent to watch you. I’m to keep an eye on you. I’m here as an old colleague, but I am here as a spy.”

The medic tensed visibly. His distrust was clearly evident, showing through as he glared daggers at the spy. Skeeter wondered if he realized just what the spy was saying. The spy was admitting to his espionage. It was something the spy was not known for.

“You wanted to know, and now you know,” the spy added, “Take heart, I don’t intend to do anything brash like reporting you.” The spy reached over to touch the ginger in an almost affectionate manner. It was strange that he made this gesture, an intimate and almost homely kind of gesture from a man who kept himself cold and distant from others.

“What a manipulative tactic,” Lucien growled, “Petting a cat to manipulate Dr. Radlof into believing he was kind.”

“Now I know,” the medic muttered as he glared.

That was where the video ended. Brian was not finished though. Far from it, he was quickly switching out the disc for a new one he wanted to show them.

“There’s more stuff!” Brian said excitedly.

This time, when the picture cleared, the medic was in clear view facing the camera. His eyes darted around and his face was pale. He was taking small shallow breaths all the while. It was a while of him chewing on his lip before an inaudible voice said something to him.

“I, Dr. Aurick Radlof under the assertion of employment and the threat of death,” the medic was cut off as a voice said something more. Skeeter was almost startled when the barrel end of what looked like a large rifle appeared at the edge of the screen. It was there for a few seconds before it was gone. The medic turned to glare at whoever was holding the gun. “_Under threat of death_, I am to conduct the final interrogation of…of…” the medic’s eyes wandered again. He was so pale and desperate looking.

“Probably a clone,” the engineer muttered under his breath.

The medic swallowed and closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened his eyes, he said in a clear voice, “Of Gabin Belhumeur, a known spy and double agent.”

“Go on,” the voice off screen was just barely clear enough to make out these words.

The medic glanced at the man threatening him, “Under threat of death for treason…” the medic’s face lost the determination. He looked almost depressed or sad. Skeeter wondered what it meant that he was like this when he would be interrogating somebody.

“He means the real Gabin Belhumeur…” the sniper said aloud.

“Can’t be,” the engineer argued.

In a smooth movement, the medic turned on his heel and walked towards a table in the foreground. He stepped around to be behind it. The figure on it was hard to see from this angle, but he was clearly strapped down to the table.

“I’m going to make this simple,” the medic said, robotically picking up a glove to put it on his hand.

“I’m never telling you anything,” the spy growled audibly.

There was a long pause. The medic was staring down at his victim without anything on his face. Except perhaps pity or exhaustion. Skeeter was not sure which it is.

With two hands he grabbed onto the figure’s head and pulled away a mask. He tossed it aside without thought. He stared at the man’s face, but nothing changed about his own face.

“Your first question, who do you work for?” the man off camera spoke loudly and clearly.

“This is foolishly self-incriminating,” the spy stated loudly.

“Are you admitting to guilt?” the man off screen demanded.

“No! I am saying that there is a reason you brought me to this doctor!” the spy shouted in rage. He tried to kick his feet but his legs were strapped down.

“Then answer the question,” the man demanded.

“No,” the spy replied curtly.

The medic grabbed a pair of pliers, not something intended for use on a human body. He grabbed one of the spy’s hands and used the pliers to twist his little finger. The response was an immediate scream of pain.

Skeeter winced. He had never known that the medic was capable of doing something like this. This was absolutely vile. Then he remembered the statement that he was determined to make about being under threat of death.

“Holy shit,” Brian breathed, eyes fully focused on the screen in front of him.

“Your next question,” the man off screen said as the screaming died down, “Where did you take the information you had gathered?”

The spy breathed in hoarsely, “Fuck you!”

The medic immediately responded by twisting another of his fingers. He gave no response, simply focusing on the act of twisting this finger. He paid no mind to the kicking and screaming of his patient.

“That’s enough!” the man off screen barked.

When the screaming stopped, the spy’s voice was hoarse and ragged. After a few moments of breathing, he managed to spit at the medic, who reeled back for a moment of actual response. Momentarily shocked, he touched his face.

He looked over at the other man and said, “Would you hand me something to wipe this off with?”

“We have to finish,” the man said sternly.

“We will finish when I am not covered in a possibly infectious contamination,” the medic replied just as sternly.

“Sounds like him,” the sniper muttered, looking away to the floor.

There was shuffling off screen. And while this off screen man was distracted, the medic carefully pulled a syringe from his breast pocket. His eyes were trained on the man off screen for a long while, before he finally looked down at the spy and his hands. He fixed a needled to the syringe, briefly glancing at the man on the table. There was a moment of hesitation, before he pricked the needled into the spy’s arm.

The medic quickly returned the syringe to his pocket and discarded the needle as well. He turned his gaze to the man off screen. He became fixated on him, wary of what might have been seen.

There was a whisper and the medic leaned down. Offering his ear, he let the spy say something so quiet that it could not audibly be discerned. After a moment, the medic nodded and straightened up. He did so just in time for a towel to be tossed his way. He used it to wipe his face.

When he dropped the towel, he turned his attention to the spy. He put a hand to the spy’s throat and shook his head, “Patient’s heart rate is dropping. Patient is catatonic and condition is quickly worsening.”

“What?!” the man off camera exclaimed, “What are you talking about? You only twisted his fingers!”

“He’s a spy, he may have had a capsule of cyanide,” the medic shrugged.

“That’s not possible!” the man off screen objected, “He was searched for any signs of cyanide!”

The medic shook his head, “He was not searched well enough.”

“Well, fucking save him!” the man off screen barked. A door flung open loudly and more voices poured into the room.

The medic was quiet and pensive as he turned to the spy’s body. He gently took the wrist of the arm he had injected. He looked at his watch, and without missing a beat he said, “Time of death is seven nineteen pm.”

The video halted at that. Skeeter quickly turned away, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed to breathe but he was not breathing very well.

He looked up with surprise to see the medic. He blinked at the man, who just stared idly at the now blank screens. Nobody moved or said anything.

“Too bad his dying words died with the doc,” the sniper shook his head.

The medic shook his head, “Take care of Lucien.”

“What?” Lucien asked.

The medic met the spy’s eye, “He made a request. Take care of Lucien.”

“Take care of- He knew the clone spy?” the sniper gestured to the spy in the room.

The medic shook his head, “It was the ginger.”

“The ginger?” the engineer sounded like he was in disbelief.

“His dying wish was for somebody to take care of his cat,” the medic said with a final shrug.

“How could you know that?” the spy narrowed his eyes, “How could you _possibly_ know that?”

The medic shrugged, “I just remember. It’s in my memory.”

“Well, considering this all happened in this facility,” Brian spoke up, turning around in a swivel chair, “It’s safe to say that it is improbable that you would remember that. All scans happened prior to the final stage of clone development. Which was the finalization of what we are today. You know…with their memories and stuff.” Brian gestured to the sniper and the engineer.

The medic said nothing as he left the room. Everybody was silent as Skeeter stumbled to the door. He was so emotionally drained. He wanted to ask so many questions. If the medic remembered this, then why had he not said anything?

“Where are you going?” he called after the medic.

“To find a damn shovel!” the medic called back.

The click of Brian pressing another button caught Skeeter’s ear. He turned around with interest at what else he was going to watch. How many secrets were contained in this facility.


	30. The Doctor Lives

This was absolutely ridiculous. While the others wasted their time on videos from the past, he alone was trying to find a shovel. They still had a truck to dig out of the snow. By now, more snow had covered it. They were looking at doing a lot of work just to get it out of that spot.

He was a little curious as to why he remembered this place. He could not explain how the memories came to him. They just came flooding back as if he had been here recently. He could not have possibly have been here recently though, and this place looked long since abandoned.

He pushed away the thoughts about the concerned spy and worked to open the door. The axe he had found was primarily meant for emergencies. Well, this need to dig the mobile truck out of the snow was an emergency. So, he raised the axe and swung it into the door, aiming for the hinges until he had one side of it destroyed.

It felt good to destroy the door. It felt good to destroy something. It had been a long time since he was in a real fight. But without a fighter hitting him back, he could take out all of that emotion and throw it at the door. He hacked and chopped, slamming all of his force into the door through the axe until the door suddenly fell away.

Panting, he rested the axe against his shoulder. He smiled at his work, proud that he had managed to do this on his own. If they were going to mess around with old files, then he would leave them to their own devices.

Besides, he could remember where things like shovels were. In a place like this, set into the side of a mountain, they had to have emergency supplies. It was not uncommon to become trapped here overnight, and then be required to dig one’s way out of the facility proper. Usually it was left up to lower staff members, but when everyone was trapped inside together, it became necessary to work together.

He set the axe aside as he moved around the dimly lit basement. Much of what he remembered being there had already been cleared out. But he was lucky enough to find a shovel. With a proud grin, he hefted the white snow shovel in his hands, ready to gloat to his travel mates.

He tromped out the doorway and up the stairs to the main hallway. He headed down the hall to the room where they were watching videos. He opened his mouth to garter their attention when he heard Dr. Aurick Radlof’s voice again. He frowned, as he realized that they were watching the man on the screen.

Ah, he remembered something like this. They must be watching logs that the man had recorded himself. They were like a journal, something to keep around visual and aural evidence detailing important information. But as he studied the screen, this looked nothing like the mess of work.

“If anybody finds this, then know…I am alive,” Aurick spoke low in a husky voice. His eyes glanced around his office, as if expecting a spy to appear and surprise him. “Whatever they have told the public, it’s all a lie! It was all a lie! They have been pulling tricks from the start,” Aurick went on hastily.

The medic pondered this. He was not sure he could remember saying anything like this. Sure he had always been this level of paranoid before. Spies always got under his skin in a way that he felt the way Aurick looked on screen.

“If you are watching this…then they succeeded in making me disappear,” Aurick said, still keeping his voice low, “My work is unfinished. I have had my projects removed from me. Either they think they can replicate it, or they don’t care anymore.” There was a frown painted on Aurick’s face now.

“That date’s after you said he’d died, son,” the engineer pointed to the date and time on the screen, “Think maybe somebody lied?”

The spy was sitting on the floor, shaking his head. He did not look around as he seemed to be fixated on the screen. The scouts were also unaware of the medic’s presence, staring at the screen like it would tell them magnificent secrets.

Aurick gave a sigh and closed his eyes. He removed his glasses to rub his eyelids. When he returned his glasses to his face, he fixed the camera with a stern look. His eyes were filled with determination, or perhaps it was rage.

“I fear it’s to be…the brainwashing,” Aurick explained.

“Brainwashing?!” Skeeter exclaimed so loudly that everybody hissed at him.

“Just watch!” the sniper hissed.

“It’s going to be painful,” Aurick relented in a croaking voice.

The medic cleared his throat, but nobody paid him mind. They kept on watching the screen. They did not even spare him a glance.

“So, I have done something equally painful,” Aurick explained slowly.

“I have found the shovels we need,” the medic raised his voice to be heard over the recording.

Suddenly, everybody hissed, “We’re watching!”

The medic sighed and rolled his eyes. He decided to just wait it out. If he could wait until the end of this video, maybe he could get their attention before they moved on to the next one.

When he returned his attention to the screen, Aurick was turned away from the camera and unbutton his clothes. He tossed his lab coat aside and quickly undid his shirt and vest. He did not worry about pulling them off completely, using one thumb to pull the clothes down from the back of his left shoulder.

Without a word, the man grabbed a scalpel and stuck it into the skin of his back. The medic could see others wincing from his peripheral vision. He rolled his eyes, because this was nothing they had not witnessed before. They had all killed somebody at some point. Aurick Radlof was not an exception, plus he had experience with patients.

“Oh please, the spy’s torture was worse,” the medic grumbled.

His eyes could not turn away as Aurick traced the scalpel down his shoulder. He proceeded making cuts that formed a symbol. All the while, he winced, gritting his teeth visibly. He never flinched though, refusing to react to the pain lest it harmed his work. He was diligent as he traced a mark that looked too familiar.

The medic was not even sure how long he was standing there, watching the original medic carve this into his back. He grew slightly sickened as the thing began to bleed into the clothes. The clothes were ignored for now, the blood left to trickle as the man finished his work.

He swallowed the dryness in his throat as he watched the medic clean away the blood with a cloth. Aurick smiled at the camera, proud of his accomplishment here. Any normal person would have been horrified, but Aurick’s eyes were agleam with pride and determination. It gave medic a feeling of familiarity, like he could feel just how bold the original medic felt about this marking.

“Guys!” Skeeter rose to his feet.

Aurick was breathing heavily through his wild smile, “This…is a mark that no clone could possibly have!” His smile only grew bigger. “This…is a mark…that I…drew myself! I made this! It is mine! And no matter what Dr. Moser has in store for me, I will remember that I am the real me!”

Brian pressed a button that paused the video. The still frame held the original medic with wild eyes and a broad smile. Nobody was paying attention to this anymore. They all turned around to look at the medic by the door. Finally, they were looking to the only man who had found the tools they needed to get out of there.

“If you idiots are finished, we have work to do,” he stated, spinning the shovel in his hands.

“Doc?” Skeeter stumbled towards him on unsure feet.

“Am I missing something?” the sniper fixed each person with a confused look.

Brian shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Doc,” Skeeter swallowed as he came to stand before the medic.

“Yes? What scout? We need to stop dallying with this…old…frivolous…files and whatnot,” he gestured to the stacks of disks standing nearby.

“Doc…you’re real…” Skeeter barely breathed out.

“Yes, Skeeter,” he rolled his eyes, “I am not a ghost. You can stop acting like I am one.”

“But…everybody thinks you are dead,” Skeeter reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“I assure you, I am not,” the medic assured him.

“I don’t think he realizes,” the engineer spoke up.

“What?” Skeeter looked to the stout man.

“Doc,” the engineer caught the medic’s attention, “You’re the original Aurick Radlof…you’ve been with us the whole time.”

The spy jolted to his feet, standing with a stiff stance. He looked poise to strike at anything or anybody, “That does not make sense!”

The air in the room became tense. Nobody spoke for a while. The medic was not sure whether to approach them with logic or to just roll his eyes and leave. They were so wrapped up in their videos that they had forgotten about reality.

“It does not make sense,” the spy said sternly.

“What doesn’t make sense?” the engineer asked, folding his arms over his chest, “We just saw Aurick carve the mark in his back…the same mark as is on _him_.”

The medic flinched. He had forgotten about the mark on his back. The enginer had had to show it to him, because after so many years he had just stopped paying attention to the faded scars.

“Aurick said it himself, a clone wouldn’t have that carved into his back,” the engineer added.

“You’re saying,” the sniper took a step away from the engineer to take a distanced stance, “that this clone…is actually not a clone? He’s been lying to us?”

“What?” the medic scoffed as he realized just how insane this was turning out to be, “I didn’t lie about anything! Don’t be stupid!”

“He knows an awful lot of recent stuff,” the engineer nodded, “You keep saying it doesn’t make sense. Well, it wouldn’t make sense for a clone of medic to remember anything that came after the cloning scans. But if he ain’t a clone, if he’s the real deal, it makes sense, wouldn’t it?”

The medic forced a laugh to try and calm the tension, “You are all growing stir crazy because of being in the facility. It is natural. We just need some calm. Maybe giving each other some space in separate rooms would help?”

“Medic, show us your back,” the spy shoved Skeeter aside as he approached the medic.

“What?” he medic took a half step back. Suddenly every part of his body was telling him to flee from the approaching spy.

“Turn around,” the spy ordered, “Show us the left side of your back.”

“I’m not doing that,” he chuckled, trying to dissuade the insanity.

“You need to show us,” the spy demanded.

“I don’t need to do anything!” the medic protested. He took a breath to try and put a lid on his anger.

“Brian, rewind the video to the part where he shows the mark,” the engineer ordered.

“A-alright,” Brian replied hesitantly, before fiddling with the controls.

“Let us see it,” the spy said with a softer tone, “Then we’ll see if it’s the real thing.”

“It is the real thing! I told you it is! I seen it! Doc, you seen it! Why are you persisting with this?” the engineer argued.

“If he was the real medic, wouldn’t he want to prove it?” the sniper turned to the engineer almost defensively.

“I don’t know why he’s hiding it,” the engineer grumbled.

The spy’s voice was softer this time, “Medic, please.”

The medic put his hands up, “This is all crazy! We have more important things to do!”

The spy persisted firmly, “Please.”

Medic opened his mouth to protest, but then the light caught the spy’s eyes. There was a glimmer of sheen in his eyes. The moisture was threatening to fall over the edge. He did not know why the spy wanted to see this so badly. He did not understand what it was that drove him to finally relent, but he was sure it was the spy’s tears.

He slowly turned, setting the snow shovel aside. His fingers worked to undo the upper half of his shirt. When he finally turned around, he pulled the shirt off of his shoulder, pushing it down to expose his back the way he had seen Aurick show off his work on the video.

There were gasps. He could not quite see the mark himself, so he was unsure what it looked like. On the monitor was Aurick Radlof showing off his mark, a freshly cleaned wound. He was sure that whatever was on his back was some skewed marking with faded scar tissue.

“It’s a match,” the sniper spoke up through the silence, “You’re right. It’s the very same mark.”

“I told you!” the engineer said almost excitedly.

“Doc…” Skeeter breathed, “You’re the…you’re…”

A warm hand touched his bare shoulder. The medic’s head spun to look back at the spy. He was pressing his hand over where the mark must have been. Tears were now running from his eyes. He said nothing and he did not meet the medic’s eyes. He just stared at his hand, pressing to the bare skin.

“Well, damn,” the engineer chuckled, “And here we were just about to mourn your death.”

“How…even…” Brian spoke with disbelief.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Skeeter asked, “Maybe we wouldn’t have believed you, but you could have tried!” The scout’s pleas were all too sweet.

The medic pulled away to fix his clothes. Once he had his shirt buttoned, he looked at them all. They were all looking at him with mixed emotions and expressions.

He opened his mouth, but he paused before he said, “You’re all insane.”

He picked up his snow shovel and left the room. It would be crazy for one man alone to try and dig out a truck, so that was out of the question. He decided instead to give himself some space. He would talk to them later when they were less stir crazy.


	31. Why Don't You Remember Me?

“So, he’s been lying this whole time,” the engineer shook his head.

Skeeter turned around to the others. He was not ungrateful for everything the medic had done, but it did not make sense. He was the oldest medic clone, but he was not older than the spy. To have taken everybody like this, he had to have kept to the lie for so many years. But how and why?

“Maybe…he didn’t know he was lying?” Brian offered.

“He is pretty stuck on it though,” the engineer said.

“Hear me out,” Brian pleaded, hopping up from his chair, “When we were created, we were relocated to programming facilities before we woke up. You guys haven’t seen it, but I was there when these guys came around.” He gestured to Lucien and Skeeter. “You wake up having all the memories of being…well…the original guy…but they gotta program that out of us. If not, we’d kill each other before we got anything done.”

“Hah! That’s pretty true,” Skeeter chuckled.

“That is with clones,” Lucien argued. He was still facing the doorway, keeping his back to the rest of them, like he could not believe that the medic had left them.

“Right…” Brian nodded, “But let’s say…somebody wanted to get rid of Aurick?”

“Could have offed him like they offed the spy,” the sniper snorted.

“Sure,” Brian shrugged, “But wasn’t he supposed to be like…working on a super important project?”

“The life elixir,” the sniper stated. He and the engineer nodded.

“Well,” Brian licked his lips, “Let’s say they didn’t want to kill him in case they needed him.”

“Or they couldn’t bring themselves to kill him,” Lucien’s voice cut in sharply.

“Uh…or that? I guess?” Brian shrugged.

Lucien took a deep breath, “Dr. Moser was once very close to Dr. Radlof. They were lovers. Even with anger and jealousy, Dr. Moser was a pudgy little man with few ways to actually get rid of Dr. Radlof. Let alone make it look like an accident.” There was silent for a few moments. Skeeter thought he heard the man swallow. “If he really wanted to get rid of Dr. Radlof, he had full access to clones of him. It would have been very easy to make the original doctor disappear amidst clones who were also kicking in screaming…claiming to be the original Dr. Aurick Radlof.”

“Yea, but the lying…” Brian started, but he let his voice trail off.

“Dr. Moser was personally involved in programming clones here,” Lucien explained, “This was namely his facility. Dr. Radlof was a visiting scientist to help with a particularly problematic case. Just slip him into one of the programming rooms and give him a fake clone number, and suddenly he was just another clone to be told he was worthless.”

“You know an awful lot about that stuff,” Brian chuckled awkwardly, “This place has been closed for a long time and-”

When Lucien whipped around, his eyes were glistening. It was clear that tears had fallen already, but the marks were mostly dry. What was left was a fierce expression, and tears that Skeeter could never have believed the original spy had ever wept.

“I know a lot about this place. I was brought here. I was programmed here. I was also very problematic,” Lucien said firmly, “It’s no coincidence that I share the name of Gabin’s cat. It’s no coincidence that I knew about this facility. It is no coincidence I tried to come here.”

“Why?” Skeeter asked, though his voice was much weaker than he had intended, “Why did you want to come here?”

Lucien swallowed, “I was looking for Dr. Aurick Radlof.”

*********************************************************************

Medic was glad he fetched the axe. It gave him easy access to all of the old chips in the vending machines. Though they were old, they did not taste too bad. It gave him something to do, something to munch on, while he pondered what he had witnessed.

“It could be a ruse,” was a thought he tried to think through over and over again. But the video existed for a reason. Aurick Radlof cut a mark into his shoulder. And apparently it looked the same as the mark in his own shoulder.

It was a very ridiculous theory though. Nine years at the front? And nobody was the wiser? Even Randal Moser could not get away with something like that.

“Docteur?” the spy’s familiar voice preceded his presence in the recreational room. He stepped around the couch the medic was sitting on. “Doctor, may I speak with you?”

“You are already doing so now? So what is the point in asking?” he asked a bit bitterly. He was not in the mood for more talking. He just wanted to be alone to think.

“Doctor,” Lucien licked his lips, “Do you remember me?”

The medic blinked at the man. He had to remind himself that Lucien had started crying earlier and that was why his eyes were red and puffy with tears in them. It was not his fault, it was the videos that made him cry.

“Of course I remember you,” the medic explained. Lucien’s face lit up, as if he had expected the medic to have amnesia. “You’re the same spy clone I’ve been traveling with for months!” the medic rolled his eyes, “You’re the same spy who survived over a decade on the front. And with no mask and a scarf in the desert no less! How could I forget?”

Lucien’s delight faded away as his face fell, “You…don’t…remember.”

“I specifically just told you that I do,” the medic argued.

“But you don’t remember me,” Lucien pressed, “You don’t remember when we met.”

Medic looked up at the ceiling, turning his eyes up as he tried to remember. He was fresh out of the program and off the back of a truck. The spy was just one of the many mercenaries he met that day. It had been the most confusing meeting of his life, surrounded by so many copies of mercenaries. It was perhaps this clone that had bewildered him the most with his wintry attire and maskless face displayed for the world to see.

“You had come with the rest of the base to see the new arrivals,” the medic explained, “You were a bit off putting, considering you were just-”

“No!” Lucien cut him off so loudly that it startled the medic, “That’s not when we met!”

The medic frowned, “That is how I remember it. Or do you have some wildly insane theory?”

Lucien knelt down on the ground before him. It was odd but disarming. Lucien looked to him with his brow pinched together and new tears wanting to form.

“It was here, in this place. It was here, and you met with me,” Lucien explained, “You saw through me, even though I kept up the act. I had fooled Moser into believing I couldn’t be broken. But you saw how he’d broken me already.”

The medic shook his head slowly, “I do not follow.”

Lucien looked down at the ground, “How can you remember this place and not remember me?!”

The medic shook his head, “I remember you. You were one of my co-”

“NO!” Lucien raised his voice again. Fresh tears filled his eyes and overflowed.

“Spy,” the medic sighed, shifting in his seat, “What do you want from me?”

“I want to understand,” Lucien met his gaze with tearful eyes, “I want…to know…” The spy let his voice trail off and his eyes moved down to the floor. He looked so sullen and lost.

The medic took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, “I don’t know why I remember this place. I don’t…I don’t remember exactly what I was doing here…”

“You don’t?” Lucien looked at him tiredly.

The medic shook his head, “It’s little pieces. It’s faded…it’s like looking at an old newspaper that sat in water for years. I remember the doors. I remember the rooms. I remember that…things are off. But I can’t remember what it is.”

Lucien looked back down. The tears moved freely down his face. He did not offer anything else, remaining on the floor with a dejected look.

“I don’t know what you expected from me,” the medic replied, “Your obsession of me has only gotten worse.”

Lucien looked up at him with widened eyes, “I am not obsessed!”

“Then why are you doing this?” the medic gestured to Lucien’s kneeling form.

Lucien glanced down at himself, then met the medic’s eye, “I’m not obsessed with you. I just…I can’t help but love you.”

The medic held his breath. He was not sure how best to respond. He could not feel the same hate that he used to feel. Yet, he was not sure he liked hearing this from the spy.

“I don’t expect you to return the feelings,” Lucien relented, “I never did. You were always paranoid at the front. I didn’t want you to think I would be always lurking around so…I just…did what I could to keep you alive.” Lucien sighed and looked down again. “I will admit to wanting those feelings reciprocated. But I never expected you to. And now I know who you really are.”

“You do?” the medic scoffed.

“You’re the man I met here,” he said through a croak in his throat, “The man who took me from Moser’s abuse…showed me kindness…gave me a chance…”

The medic shook his head, “I don’t remember doing any of this.”

“But you remember being here,” Lucien protested but he did not raise his eyes, “Do you remember why?”

Medic blinked at him, “Why what?”

“Why you were here?” Lucien pressed.

The medic sighed. He rubbed his face, pushing his glasses up out of the way. It was hard to process everything, especially with somebody pressing him about it now.

“I don’t know…work?” the medic offered as he lowered his hands.

Lucien shook his head solemnly, “Dr. Moser called you here because he could not break a clone. Remember?” He did not say it, but looking at his eyes the medic could just hear him saying please.

“Dr. Moser…needed help with the cloning process,” the medic hesitantly tried to look back in his memory.

He swallowed as Lucien reached for his hand. The hand froze in mid air. Lucien looked at him, eyebrows pinching together slightly.

“What happened?” Lucien asked softly.

“Pardon me?” the question slipped out of medic’s lips before he could think about what he was saying.

“I…” Lucien lowered his hand and turned his face down, “What happened to you? What made you forget?”

The medic swallowed. He was not sure how to answer that. He was not sure about any of this. He did not understand why this fell to him. Nor did he understand how he could process it.

“I want to understand,” Lucien raised his eyes to the medic. When he met the medic’s gaze, Lucien raised a hand, with the palm up. “I also want to help,” Lucien insisted.

“Why?” the medic asked softly.

“Why what?” Lucien frowned.

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” the medic asked.

Lucien tightened his lip and visibly bit into them. His hands flexed and relaxed. He took a loud breath through his nose.

“I told you, I am not obsessed with you!” Lucien protested.

“Then why won’t you let this go? Why do you have to press this stuff with me, Lucien?” he asked.

“Because…I…you…we…” Lucien’s voice was cracking desperately, “We have history.”

“Just because you think somebody has history with you, doesn’t mean it has to mean something,” the medic protested, “Besides, the history _I_ remember with you is years of you being conniving and back stabbing!”

“That’s not even a phrase!” Lucien raised his voice.

“I don’t care!” the medic raised his voice higher, “Because this is ridiculous and-”

“Stop,” Lucien raised a hand as he spoke sharply. The medic blinked at him, unsure about the very sudden change of attitude. Lucien seemed more sure of himself now, relaxing his body and taking careful breaths now. “It was in the log Aurick made,” Lucien said calmly, his voice steady and firm, “He was suspicious of Moser. It had to have been…I don’t know…he lied to me and after I was shipped off, Moser conducted the brainwashing on you.”

The medic rolled his eyes, “Do you realize how insane that sounds.”

“Think about it,” Lucien insisted, “How many clones do you think wake up thinking they are the original man? I did.”

The medic was silent. It was common knowledge that every clone woke up thinking he was the real person, the original person. It was simply something that was not discussed. Morale would simply have dropped if they spoke of things that tragic.

“The same process they used on us clones…it must have been what he used for you,” Lucien explained.

The medic failed to hold back a chuckle, “So what, he dangled a watch in front of my face and swung it back and forth?”

Lucien gave him a puzzled look, tilting his head slightly, “You mean…you don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember something that did not happen,” the medic explained.

“Clone or not, you had to have been through the same,” Lucien pressed.

The medic sighed and tried to wave off the topic, “I…probably not. Look, Lucien. It is not im-”

Lucien rose halfway to his feet, with one knee almost down on the ground, “Don’t say it is unimportant! It _is_ important!”

“No, it’s not,” the medic softened his tone.

Lucien rose to his feet and dusted off his pants, “I’ll show you, it is.”

“You can’t show me something that isn’t-” medic cut off as Lucien offered him a hand.

“I’m not asking you to fall in love with me,” Lucien groaned, “I’m not asking you to care about me. I’m not asking you to even give me a chance. I would be happy with just your acquaintanceship. All I want is to help you. And right now…what you need is the truth.”

“I don’t need the…you’re playing along with nonsense,” the medic protested.

“It’s not though,” Lucien insisted, still holding his hand out to the medic, “Will you come? Let me show you?”

The medic sighed and rose to his feet. He held his chin high and put his hands behind his back. He squared up as he faced the spy confidently.

“Fine, I’ll follow. You lead. When we get there, we’ll see what is there,” he said sternly, “And when it’s over…you let this go.”

Lucien took a deep breath, mimicking his posture, “Fine. And you’ll see… you will see what I am saying. It’s true.”

“Lead on,” the medic insisted with a gesture of his hand.

He followed Lucien down the hall. They were silent, though they were not necessarily sneaking. He did not feel like getting the others’ attention though, so he remained silent as they passed the door. A quick peek revealed that Brian was still watching footage and the other two mercenaries were chatting.

He turned his attention to the spy clone, who was walking with determination. The medic thought he had a strange familiarity in this place, but the spy seemed to recall this place like he grew up here. He followed him into an obscure doorway, which led them up a set of stairs.

He eyed the strange metallic hallway. It was without any windows but many doors. Each door was the exact same, with no labels or differences. The spy just kept walking though, all too acquainted with this place.

Lucien paused, his hand extended to the door. The medic looked on, expecting him to perhaps turn back to say something to him. He must have been pausing for something. Yet he finally managed to proceed without a word, opening the door up easily. He stood aside from the doorway, finally turning to the medic. They met each other’s gazes, while Lucien gestured to the room.

The medic was hesitant at first. It was ominous to be escorted to a word in silence. Though he did name something of a verbal deal with the spy. He might as well try and see what he wanted to show.

He stepped up to the doorway, never breaking eye contact. Lucien did not break eye contact with him either. When Medic finally looked away, his eyes landed upon an almost barren room with just a bed bolted to the floor. The metallic room was cold and familiar. It was dim and foreboding. Even with the fluorescent lights overhead it was impossibly dim.

His heart dropped to his feet. He halted, unable to move forward. At the same time, he found his mind not cooperating with his heavy body. He needed to go backward, to move away from this room. His mind screamed for his body to change directions, but it would not agree with him.

_Oh the headache from sleeping on the desk was already creeping up. It was far too late in the night to be trying anything. Not that he had a vehicle to try and go anywhere anyways. He stared at the wood of his desk for a minute, before he dug out the flask from his desk drawer. He would be without access to anything outside of the facility for a while, so he chose to sip on it sparingly._

_A fist pounded on the door. The aggression behind it betrayed the fury. Who else would be knocking? It had to be Moser. That or some upper officer had been sent to reprimand him for something or other. He did not really care, so he took another drink of the flask._

_Just because it _might_ be a high ranking officer sent here to escort him away from this stupid place, he decided to hide the flask away. He took a moment to straighten his clothes from their sleepy disarray. He rose to his feet and strode to the door. When he opened it, he was met with the disappointment that was Dr. Moser._

_“Aurick! Your fucking nonsensical bullshit fucking experiment has gone awry!” Moser barked at him, hands balled into fists._

_“What?” he rubbed his forehead. He was worried he might be getting the start of a migraine._

_“That fucking spy you let out,” Moser growled, “He’s upstairs…he’s been given a deadline…higher ups aren’t waiting anymore.”_

_Oh great, he thought. Moser was up to some sort of shit with people up high. It was not a high ranking officer come to arrest him, but it was still shitty. He would have to at least take whatever it is into account._

_“Wait...where is the spy?” he blinked away the haze in his eyes._

_“He is upstairs,” Randal Moser shot him a toothy grin, “And he has twelve hours to be reprogrammed or…” His smile spread wider._

_He stared at Randal’s wide grin. He wanted to wipe that smile off his face. More than that, he realized, he wanted to make sure he got that clone to safety. He had failed to escape, and now Randal had reported it. This escape had to be the reason for the sudden deadline. Randal was angry._

_“Get out of the way,” he pushed past Randal into the hallway. He stormed off to the stairs that led to the clone isolation chambers._

_Behind him, he could hear Randal Moser’s sneakers tapping against the floor. The sound echoed against hollow walls as they made their way in line. He passed a few of the security crew. Usually they said nothing, but he found it strange how they looked at him, eyeing him like there was something to be wary of._

_He turned his attention to the path ahead. He followed his feet to the door. He had been visiting it at least once every day now, so he knew exactly where it was. Usually he was there to greet the man calmly. Now he felt he had plenty of reason to berate him for being so stupid. He would say nothing specific to Moser, given the man did not need to know he had handed the spark plug and key over to the spy. Instead, he would be vague and chastise him for his insubordination. In truth, he would be berating him for not getting away before he was found out._

_He entered the code without hesitation. He knew it by heart already so he no longer needed to bring a note with him. The clone was not usually at the door, and this time he was probably ashamed of himself. So when he did not immediately see the spy, he was not surprised and stormed in._

_He paused, looking around the room. He heard the door shut behind him, but he paid it no mind as he came to the conclusion that the spy was not here. He rolled his eyes and growled in frustration. Randal must have moved him to a different room with a different code to keep him from accessing the clone._

_“Where is he?” he demanded loudly as he turned to the door._

_“_He’s_ on his way to the front,” Randal’s voice came squeaking over a speaker._

_He looked around, bewildered. There was no reason for Randal to be on the speakers. Besides, he should have been at the door, since he was following._

_He approached the door to open it. When he found it locked, he knocked on it with his fist, “Dr. Moser! Open the door!”_

_“Now now,” Randal’s voice came over the speaker again, “You should get more comfortable. Sit and stay a while.”_

_He frowned, “This isn’t funny.”_

_“It’s not a joke. Why would it be funny?” Randal gave such a sincere tone that it was almost sickening._

_“Randal,” he said sternly, “Open this door. Open it now.”_

_“I will not be opening that door,” Randal protested, “And that is _Dr. Moser_ to you.”_

_“Either way,” he rubbed his face, “I’m not getting anything done being locked in a room. If you’re going to hide the clone, then I’ll-”_

_“Oh? The spy clone?” Randal cut him off, “Oh he’s already taken care of. He’s on his way to the frontlines.”_

_“What?” he blinked, shocked at finding out that he was lied to. It was better than being forced to look the spy in the eye, remember Gabin and euthanize him all over again. “Open this door!”_

_“You are in no position to make demands, medic,” Randal said firmly._

_“What? You’re holding me hostage here now?” he demanded._

_“Hostage? That would imply you had any freedoms,” Randal replied, with a tone that hinged on amusement, “No, you’re just a clone.”_

_His stomach sank, “What did you say?”_

_“You’re just a clone. Nothing more,” Randal went on, “Nothing less.”_

_“I am not a clone, you idiot! Now let me out of here!” he raised his voice as he slammed the side of his fist into the door._

_“You’ll see,” he could hear Randal’s gleeful smile in his words, “I have faith that you will come around. Every clone does eventually. And that is what you are. You are a clone. You are a copy. You are a cog in the machine._

Lucien stepped through the door behind him saying, “This is where I was. This is where I stayed. Remember?” His voice teetered off as he turned to the medic.

Medic turned and stumbled out of the room. He hurried across the hall to lean on the wall. He needed its support as his heart raced. His head was spinning so fast he could not make it stop.

“Medic!” he heard the spy’s voice before he landed on the ground, “Medic, are you alright?”

He winced away from the sound. Tears were forming in his eyes. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to remember. He did not want those lies in his head again. He did not want to remember how many years he spent trying to sort out his own memories. He did not want to think about how long he spent arguing with Randal until his voice hurt.

“Medic, I am sorry! Please!” he heard Lucien pleading.

It was hard to breathe. The space in this hall was too small. Everything was crashing in. Logically, he understood that the walls could not be moved, yet it felt as though they were closing in on him. It began to hurt in his center. He could not take it anymore, and he shielded his head with his arms.

“Docteur?” Lucien pleaded.

“I…” his breaths came in heavily, “I need space.”

He needed more than space. He did not know what exactly though. It felt like the world around him was closing in on him. He was going to die here like this, being back in this facility again.

“I’ll stay right here,” Lucien scooted away a little bit, “I’m right here when you need me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of emotions on this chapter. I hope you have enjoyed so far. I'm not finished writing as I still have a little ways to go.
> 
> I am thinking about writing one last sequel...a third story to wrap this up in a trilogy. What are your thoughts?


	32. The Solution

Nightfall came with the worst of the storm. There would be no escaping the facility tonight. They still had to dig out the truck and after that they needed to navigate to safety.

Medic laid on the couch with an arm over his face. The recreational room’s lights were turned off. In the darkness, he could hear others snoring ever so slightly. The soft noise was a comfort that he was not alone.

Still, he could not make his mind be quiet. Part of him wanted to go back up the stairs to prove to himself that he could handle standing at that door again. It was all just to prove something to himself though. It would not have a high probability of helping him overcome this noise in his brain.

He lowered his arm and looked around. His pupils were already adjusted to darkness, so he could see every figure. Sniper was passed out on a recliner, looking like it was a perfect fit. Anther recliner held a scout who was curled into a ball. The other two couches held a scout and the engineer.

On the floor wrapped up in the cold was the spy. Like some faithful dog, he laid near the couch the medic was laying on. This man was certainly not helping his case when it came to arguing about obsession.

He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. It had been his own fault that things turned out this way. If he had not encouraged the spy so much, maybe he could have coaxed him into giving up the Gabin identity. If he had done this, the spy clone would not have become so attached to him before going to the front. He would have had proper closer and he would not have sought him out in this facility.

“Doc?” he heard the engineer’s whisper, “You awake?”

He grunted in response, folding his hands on his abdomen. He did not feel like talking to the man. That would probably wake up the others anyways.

“It will be difficult to have a chance to talk one on one tomorrow,” the engineer whispered.

The medic let the silence hang in the air. The raging winds outside were all that covered the soft breathing of their companions.

“We should meet up,” the engineer whispered, almost inaudibly, “When we get the chance. I have a few things to talk to you about.”

He said nothing. He did not have anything to say to the engineer. He was already aware of what he wanted. He was not sure he could deliver on that though.

Unable to sleep, medic crept out of his makeshift bed and carefully left the recreational room. He slipped down the dark hallway, following his memory. He had been thinking so much about memories lately. He had thought about a lot of memories in the past year that he had not considered for nine years. It was something akin to enlightenment.

He arrived at the main lab and flicked the switch. To his relief, the lights were working. He had been a little worried that the storm might knock out all of the power in the facility and leave them further stranded.

He walked slowly, blinking against the strong fluorescent lights. They hummed to life as if they had missed their jobs of creating light. He let his eyes adjust while he studied the lap. Much of it was untouched, left in a neat and tidy manner.

His hand gently passed over the worktable, covered in a layer of dust from years of neglect. It had been here that he worked on his ever important project while he was assisting Moser. He had to provide product, after all. Since he would not provide any instructions for the formula.

That had been his secret to take to the grave. They had sent them off to the grave. Or at least, Randal Moser had sent him to end up in his grave. It was all by chance and hard work that he was still here, alive and well.

How odd it was to think that all of this was foiled by the spy. He had been so angry with the spy about everything that happened with waking up late and ending up a prisoner at the enemy base.

All of it felt like fate. Without those moments he never would have gotten to the point of coming here. And still, as he wiped an old rag across the surfaces to clean them away, he felt that he was meant to return here.

He began digging through all of the supply cabinets and the hardware available. He adorned the workspace with beakers and syringes. He pulled on a pair of gloves to protect his hands, while he set to work analyzing and measuring chemicals.

He must have been working for hours when he heard a knock on the door. He flinched but he did not turn around. That was how he had worked before, when Moser was here. He would never address Randal’s attempts at approaching him again.

“Doc?” he was surprised that it was the engineer and not the spy who came. Then again, it had been the engineer who was awake earlier. “What are you…working on?” the engineer approached his work cautiously, “Are you trying to remember?”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Aurick cracked a smile and threw his head back in a laugh. Of course the engineer would think so highly of that old elixir and think he would turn back to creating that same old product. He forgot the kind of man he was! He was a scientist first and foremost! The life elixir had been a wonderful discovery, but it was old now.

“Nein!” he laughed, “I’m not returning to old projects.” He set aside a couple of beakers before turning to the engineer, “I’m working on something new!”

“Oh?” the engineer furrowed his brow, “What are you working on?”

Showing the Texan a toothy grin, he reached out for an old piece of paper. He unfolded it until it was easily seen. It was old, worn down from time. It still had his notes from when he initially worked on these blue prints.

“I would need a bit of your assistance on this,” he explained, “But just imagine what machinery like this could do!”

He watched as the man looked over the papers. His eyes were darting across it with the intrigue that only a man of science could ascertain. He understood these schematics. He comprehended the formulas. This was the first Aurick could remember showing his work to somebody who could properly appreciate it in a long time.

“Doc…” the engineer turned to him, “Do you know what this could mean?”

“So many things!” Aurick threw his hands in the air, “Do you realize what we could do with this? Imagine the accomplishments!”

“I…” the engineer hesitated, creating a worried frown on his forehead.

“The fear of what was will be long behind us!” Aurick went on.

“There’s no way,” the engineer shook his head.

“What?” Aurick blinked at him.

“There is no way we could make this work to that extent,” the engineer just shook his head.

“No, look at this,” Aurick picked up the paper to show the engineer a part of it, “These formulas are flawless. The work is all here. We just have to create it and perfect it!”

“I see what you’re getting at, doc,” the engineer raised a hand, “But it’s not going to work. Not for that.”

“It can if we try,” Aurick insisted.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” the engineer turned and walked towards the door, “But I think it’s time to leave fights of the past in the past.” When he turned around he had a very wrinkled frown on his face. He looked so much older than Aurick remembered him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do the same.”

On that last note, the engineer left. Aurick stood alone amidst his work. He still held the paper in his hand. He wondered if there was anything he could do to turn around the man’s broken spirit.

He looked back at his work. It had never failed him. He had always accomplished greater things. There were always flaws but flaws were present to be worked around. Flaws had to be found in order to make something perfection.

He turned back to his work and set about measuring ingredients. He had a lot to do if he was going to turn the engineer’s mind around. He was not sure he had a lot of time, since everyone would wake soon and that meant they would go out to shovel the truck out of the snow.

*********************************************************************

The storm had passed already. The calm white terrain was so still that it was as if a storm never happened. This calm afforded them the chance to dig the truck out. It was hard to find, despite its massive size. The mobile was barely exposed from its blanket of snow.

“Let’s start from the tires and engine,” the sniper instructed, “We’ll be able to get it out of the dirt at least.”

“Where’s medic at?” Brian asked.

“Now you’re asking?” Skeeter asked him.

“Leave the doc be,” the engineer said, waving off the question, “He’s dealing with some things indoors. We’ll go check on him later.”

“Okay, alright then,” Brian accepted this reluctantly.

Lucien accepted this in silence. He already felt horrible for what happened. If he had not led the medic there, he would not have had his panic attack. If he had not insisted on the medic remembering him, the man would not have been in the state he was in the night before.

He was not sure how the others were taking this. So far, around Lucien himself, they had been rather silent about the topic. They were treating it as if it was non-existent or perhaps taboo.

He silently joined in digging the snow away from the wheels of the mobile. At least they could eventually put this place behind them. And Lucien did come here to find the original Aurick Radlof. He just wished it had not been on such harsh terms.

He had not realized how much he needed to be remembered. He had not realized how much he had been eager for Aurick Radlof to recognize him. He felt foolish for equating that loss of memory with rejection. He should have known better than to push him into remembering old things he had repressed. He had seen enough clones have adverse reactions to being pushed into remembering things they did not want to recall. He never should have taken Aurick upstairs.

“Hey spy?” Skeeter caught his attention.

“What is it?” he asked, turning his full attention to digging the snow out from behind the wheel he was working on.

“You uh…do you think doc is doing okay?” Skeeter asked.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” the spy replied dismissively.

“It’s just that…” Skeeter shuffled his feet as he resumed digging, “You know, he hasn’t joined us all morning. Nobody has really talked about it, but I think maybe he’s cracked. Like mentally?”

Lucien almost wanted to reach out and pat the younger clone. It would be both to comfort him and to praise him for his caring consideration for the medic. It was strangely insightful of the scout clone to have noticed that the medic was off.

“I’m worried about him,” Skeeter went on as they dug out the snow, “I don’t want him to spiral. We haven’t even figured out where we’re going next, and doc is like…I don’t know…” Skeeter paused in his work and let out a big sigh.

Lucien kept digging, but his attention was on the younger clone, “The doctor will be fine.” It was a lie, he was sure. He was not sure of anything that Aurick was going through. As it stood, the doctor might need some real help.

His thoughts were cut off when he realized that the medic was approaching. Trotting through the snow, the white lab coat billowed around the medic like a majestic cape. The wind played with it, giving it a mysterious aura of being alive.

He trudged right through the snow to approach them. He gave no thoughts to the group as a whole, going directly to the engineer. The engineer pushed back the beanie hat he was wearing, puzzled as a huge grin greeted him. Aurick wordlessly took the engineer’s hand and put a beaker in it.

Appalled, the engineer took a step back. In the same motion, he raised his hand to eye level to study the fluid in the beaker. He blinked at it, before turning to the medic.

“What’s this?” the engineer asked.

Everybody was looking now. Curiosity got the better of the entire group. They stopped shoveling to find out what was going on with the medic. Between the beaker of mysterious origins and the broad smile on his face, it was enough to lure them in for a bite of what was going on.

“You wanted that life elixir,” the medic explained, putting his hands behind his back.

“You remembered how to make it?!” the engineer asked excitedly.

“Crikey!” the sniper exclaimed, jumping down from his perch on the truck to get a closer look.

Aurick chuckled in amusement, “Not quite.”

“What is it?” the engineer looked back up at him warily.

“Is that what you were doing this morning?” Skeeter spoke up, dropping his shovel aside, “You were working on that?”

The medic cleared his throat pointedly, “I don’t repeat old projects, my friend. What is the point? Why would a scientist do something that has already been done?”

“Because…uh…” Skeeter tried to answer but apparently spoke without thinking this over.

“Because the life elixir’s a bloody miracle in a bottle, mate!” the sniper’s voice was a little shrill as he spoke, “That stuff is youth in a bottle! Why wouldn’t you make it?”

“I looked over some notes and engineered something better!” with a proud grin spread across his face, Aurick gestured to the beaker in the engineer’s hand.

“So…this is?” the engineer pressed for answers.

“Ah,” Aurick dug into his pocket to pull out a measuring utensil. He plucked the beaker from the engineer’s hand and carefully filled the utensil with the fluid. The others crowded around, curious about this intriguing concoction. When he was satisfied with the measurement, the medic smiled and offered up the measurement to the engineer’s face. “Have a drink!”

The engineer frowned and raised his hands. If there was any more pressure, he might start backing away. “That’s alright doc,” the man said hesitantly.

“You wanted your youth,” the medic pressed, “Take a drink.”

“That’s…thank you for trying, but I-” he was cut off as the measuring utensil was shoved directly into his mouth mid word. It looked like it was shoved all the way to the back of his throat. When the medic pulled the utensil away, the engineer hacked and gagged. He tried to spit the stuff out, but it seemed that he had managed to swallow the majority of it. “What the hell did you poison me with?!” the engineer wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Poison?” Aurick gave him an injured look.

“I think he just gave you what you were asking for,” Skeeter chuckled.

“You did want that solution quite desperately,” Aurick nodded, “So I delivered. A new and improved solution! It’s not just anti-aging either!”

“Why does my face tingle?” the engineer touched his face with his gloved fingers.

“That could be from the cold, or it could be a side effect,” the medic rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Doc! What the hell!” the sniper exclaimed, “You haven’t even tested it yet!”

“Now I have!” the medic grinned and gestured to the engineer, “We should get you inside to see if it is actually side effects or if it is just the cold. I need a notepad!”

“Doc!” Brian barked, “We have work to do!” He turned and gestured to the vehicle that was still blocked in with snow. “We have to get work done. We have so much to do to get out of here.”

“You work on that,” the medic gestured with a hand dismissively.

“The scout’s right,” the engineer protested. He had a hand rubbing the side of his face, clearly bothered by the sensation in his skin.

The medic reached out and grabbed the front of the engineer’s shirt. He lowered his voice, growling like a madman, “I delivered on what you wanted. Now it is your turn to help me.”

The engineer did not look as afraid as Lucien thought he should be. Rather, he looked like he was about to strike out with a solid punch. “Do that again, and I’ll send you to your maker!” the engineer growled.

The medic chuckled, “As it were, your youthful spunk is already showing!” The medic paused to pat the engineer’s face.

Lucien moved to get a closer look. He was shocked to see that this was true. The wrinkles and color had changed. The engineer looked paler and softer. His skin was tighter over his face. If the medic’s hint gave off anything, then this solution was not just about changing appearances.

“Docteur…what did you expect this solution to do, exactly?” Lucien asked.

“It is the perfect solution,” the medic paused to gently shake the beaker, “to all the aging problems. Wrinkles, crow’s feet, wear and tear on the body, decay, mental stress, hormonal changes…the works!”

The engineer stared up at him, mouth slightly agape, “That’s…that’s more than the life elixir did!”

The medic nodded enthusiastically, “And now…” He paused to pat the engineer’s shoulder. “My friend, you’re going to help me make something that does more than anything this government has ever succeeded in.”

“Like…what?” Skeeter spoke up.

“Like…” the medic’s smile was so wide it was terrifying, “Taking down an entire propaganda enhanced and war enforced political system!”

There was a pause before Skeeter shouted, “Count me in!”

Lucien took a breath before he nodded to the medic. He did not want to be loud about his agreement to this. Though he did want to show that he supported Aurick.

“Alright doc,” the engineer chuckled, a wry deep sound that was far more familiar to Lucien’s old memories, “Let’s make something that’ll tear them down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> Look forward to a part three. Name is currently pending.


End file.
